


Bad Things Happen to Cowboys Who Meddle with Time

by Golden_Holden



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Action, Adventure, Arthur is a sub in bed, Arthur is secretly scared, Attempted Suicide, Bath Sex, Bottom Arthur, But also, Canon-Typical Violence, Captured, Conspiracy, Eventual Smut, First Time Blow Jobs, Fix-It, Fluff, Gang Rape, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, Original Character(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel, Torture, Versatile John Marston, dun dun dun, torture aftermath, whole lotta fucked up shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 23:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 46,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17089796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Holden/pseuds/Golden_Holden
Summary: How would you tell Arthur that you’re from the future and you played him in a thing called ‘video game’?How would you tell him that you’re here to save him from what you saw ?How would you deal with the consequences of messing with history?





	1. Killing Downes: Terminator Style

Chapter 1

“P-please mister...you don’t have to do this. I’ll get the money I swear!” Thomas Downes sputtered in the mud, frantically trying to scoot away from his masked assailant. Letting out a choked gasp as he felt the wooden fence against his back; There was nowhere left to run.

“Get on your knees and turn around!” Aiden Bennett yelled, sounding just as terrified as his hostage. The weight of Arthur’s revolver felt like the heaviest weight in the world in his hand.

“Please...no…” Downes breaks down in a fit of wheezing coughs. “....I have a family... please have mercy mister…”

“I said right now!!” His heart pounded in his ears, eyes wild with panic and on the verge of crying, pupils dilated. “Do it now!” Aiden motioned for Thomas to turn around with his trembling hand wielding the gun.

“Okay…Okay....” Thomas Downes scrambled to turn around in the mud, still gripped by his hacking cough. “… mister…. please… please don’t kill me” he whimpers as he slips and catches himself with his arm. His patched straw hat had fallen off and his striped shirt now caked in filth.

The edges of the young man’s vision were pulsing in time with his racing heart. The black bandana covering his face clung to his skin from sweat. Aiden quickly wiped at his forehead to get the damp hair out of his eyes. The newbie outlaw had never killed a man before, not a real one anyway. He has tagged along in a few small robberies since he joined the gang but never had to shoot his gun. Aiden knew that taking a life would be wildly different in reality than in video games. But this...this is so much more than he could have ever imagined. Now that he has this innocent man at gunpoint he feels fear and guilt like he never had before.

“Turn your head around, stop looking at me!” Aiden yelled at the farmer, who currently knelt in the mud with his back turned on his assailant, his half-raised arms shaking like twigs in a storm.

Fighting back the bile in his throat, the slender would-be assassin tried shakily to cock the Cattleman with his thumb. But the hammer doesn’t budge, and he had to use both thumbs to pull it back finally.

CLICK. The revolver announced coldly, now primed to kill. “Please...please...no no no…” Downes breaks down in quiet sobs.

“Thomas? Thomas!” “Papa!” Two voices shrieked in the direction of the small farmhouse. Aiden stumbles back in confusion, whipping the gun around to point at the two newcomers. “S-stop right there!” he stammered, shifting his aim between Downes and his wife, who is shielding her son with her body.

“My husband isn’t well! ”Edith Downes cried with equal parts anger and distress “if we could just have more….”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Aiden’s voice breaks, clenching his jaw with all his might to avoid throwing up, his nostrils flared under the bandana as he fought to breathe through his nose. Now, not only was he going to execute an innocent man, he would have to do it in front of his wife and son. Shaking his head quickly and focusing on Thomas once again, Aiden pushed the barrel against the back of the farmers head. Squeezing his eyes shut, he began to pull the trigger.

Suddenly, the ground reverberated with the rhythm of pounding hooves, the wind carrying the deep roar of a familiar voice. “Aiden!”

The young man knows exactly who it is and why he came. The thumping of the racing horse was closing in rapidly. He turned his head toward the direction of the slope as Arthur rose up from the horizon, His brown Tennessee walker galloping furiously. In seconds the outlaw was already outside the little garden, swinging off the saddle before the horse had come to a full stop.

“Easy now kid...easy,” Arthur slowly opened the wooden gate to let himself in, careful not to make any sudden moves. He raises both hands in front of his chest as he would calming a spooked horse.

Snapping out of his trance, the young outlaw pushed the barrel forcefully against Downes’ head once more as Arthur took a slow, small step toward the two. “Stay back Arthur!” he finally choked out. “I have to do this” The sight of Aiden’s distress washed over Arthur in a wave of heartbreak and confusion.

“Kid listen to me, whatever is wrong you ain’t gotta kill no one, trust me.” Arthur lowers his voice so that only Aiden can hear him. “ Now you tell me wha’s wrong an’ I promise we’ll figure this out, you an’ me.”

“You... you don’t understand Arthur… I’m just trying to...protect, if I don’t….end up killing you..” He struggles to remain coherent as his body is wracked with an onslaught of sobs.

“Shhhhh….hush now, ’s okay, take it easy.” Arthur tentatively takes another step toward him.

“He’ll…..he’ll….he’ll kill you,” Aiden repeated, trying to control his breathing.

“Come on now, this fool? Killin’ me? Nah” Arthur forces a faint smile as he tries to ease the situation. “If a weaselly feller like him can kill me I might as well hang up my hat now, hm? I mean look at ‘im,” The big outlaw nodded toward the cowering farmer “I can put his ass in the dirt with my ‘lil pinky. He ain’t nothin’ to worry about angel.”

Seeing that he had slowly lowered the revolver a little, Arthur took another step forward to stand right behind the shaking young man. He gently wrapped one arm around the heaving thin frame to pull him into his chest as his other arm slowly pushes Aiden’s arm down “Shhhh biscuit it’s alright, I’m right here an’ I ain’t going nowhere.” Arthur whispered in his ear, the deep rumble of his voice soothing and warm. His big calloused hand glides over Aiden’s, gently tugging the weapon away and setting it back in his holster.

Aiden suddenly broke free of Arthur’s embrace and fell on his knees, heaving as he emptied his stomach onto the mud, coughing from the sickening taste of bile in his mouth. “Shhhh you’re alright, you’re gonna be just fine, just let it all out.” Arthur sighed as he knelt beside his companion and stroked his back slowly as he waited for the retching to stop.

Arthur looked up at the farmer, still kneeling with his head turned to stare bewildered at the turn of events. “Well, what you waiting for? Get the hell outta here, or I might just shoot you myself.” He bellowed with his usual harsh gunslinger voice, sending Downes’ scrambling to pick himself up from the mud and scurries away with his family.

When the coughing finally subsided, Arthur untied his neckerchief and used it to wipe away the filth from his lover’s lips gingerly and discards it. “There, feelin’ a bit better?” Aiden nods wordlessly, and Arthur scooped him up like a princess. He vaguely remembers being pulled up onto the Walker. His eyes flickered as a tide of exhaustion overtook him, leaning his head against Arthur’s warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you like the story so far! It’s a huge encouragement for me :))
> 
> Finally coming around to write my first ever fic, it involves a time-traveling male OC named Aiden, who has to hide the fact that he is from the future and knows everything that is going to happen to the gang while secretly trying to help the gang evade trouble using his knowledge. 
> 
> But the consequences of Aidens interference may soon emerge.
> 
> Ps: I’m also updating another story about an alternative ending for this fic, where Aiden realizes that he is actually in Westworld and the entire gang are all robotic hosts stuck in their little story loop. Give that one a try too :)


	2. I Played You in a Video Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden explains to Arthur how his life played out in a video game.

Chapter 2

Aiden blinked open his bleary eyes and was greeted by a sky full of stars; he will never get used to the breathtaking beauty that is an unadulterated night sky. Because where he came from, the night is just a lifeless bruise of greys and blues. _We really just fuck everything up don’t we?_

“You hungry?” Arthur’s gruff voice drawled, jerking the young man from his musing. He takes one last look at the stars before sitting up to look at the handsome outlaw, who met his gaze through the blur above the small campfire between them. Arthur grunted before Aiden can answer, ripping off a leg from a roasted rabbit and handing it to him.

“Thanks,” He said quietly as he took the leg, clutching a blanket tightly around himself with his free hand. Aiden quickly lowered his eyes to the fire when he realized that Arthur was staring at him expectantly. An awkward silence set in as Aiden nibbled on his food hoping Arthur would let it slide. “So you gonna tell me what all that drama was about?” Arthur spoke, apparently not taking no for an answer.

Aiden’s face flushed red from embarrassment as he subconsciously slumps his back in an attempt to seem smaller. _I really made a big mess again, didn’t I?_ It was supposed to be simple, in and out before the gang notices. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy killing a man for the first time, but it had to be done to save Arthur’s life. His goddamn boyfriend’s life. _I can’t even do that. Fucking useless._

“Hey now sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that.” The older man read his thoughts, as he so often does. “I just wanna help s’all,” He scoots closer to Aiden, his arm rubbing against his companion’s. “It just wasn’t like you to go stealin’ my gun and riding off like that, got me real worried there, you know? Were you lookin’ to try your hand at robbing that feller or somethin’? I know I sure did when I was younger.” Arthur chuckled to himself before continuing: “You know sometimes, even though you’ve only been with us a few months it feels like you’ve known me my whole life. You seem to...I don’t know, understand how I am, I guess. So whatever it is that’s troublin’ you, it ain’t gone bother me none. You can tell me.” Arthur took Aiden’s hand in his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. His eyes focused on Aiden's with a tenderness rarely seen.

Aiden let out a wilted sigh. There is no point in denying now, given what a godawful liar Aiden was when it came to his lover. He scratched his growing stubble as he contemplated how to make what he is about to say sound as sane as possible: “ I…I’m not actually from Strawberry. I ain’t from this time you see,” Arthur tilted his head slightly but didn’t speak. Aiden sighed again: “I know this is gonna sound super wild... but I’m from the future, about 120 years or so.” He saw Arthur’s raised brow and picked up his pace unconsciously. “I have no idea how I got here. I just went to bed one day in my apartment, and the next thing I remember is waking up in that barn in Valentine. At first I thought I was in Westworld or something.”

“The what now?”

“Westworld, it’s a TV show about robot cowboys that I like.”

“Wha- nevermind, keep goin',” Arthur thought better of asking about every foreign term.

“The reason you feel like I know you so well is because I sorta lived your life for a bit, through a thing we call video games....it’s kinda hard to explain. Anyway, when you brought me back to camp at Horseshoe Overlook, I realized that most of what I know about you and the gang haven’t even happened yet. So I didn’t tell you guys the truth right away because I didn’t want you guys to think I’m crazy or something and kick me out.” the younger man paused to measure Arthur’s expression, who merely nodded for him to continue.

“I thought about confessing at some point, but then...then _we_ happened, and I was so scared you wouldn’t want me anymore if you found out that I’m just a useless cheat who doesn't have a clue what he’s doing. Anyone in a million people from my time could have ended up here instead of me and be better for the gang. Be better for you.” Aiden quickly stole a glance at Arthur.

The cowboy tried to keep his expression calm, but the insignificant part of his lips gave away his awe. “That why you went to that feller’s place?”

Aiden chewed his lip nervously as he considered what to say next: “In the video game I watched you hunt and rob and fight...and in the end I watched you die a horrible death.”

Arthur’s eyes glinted with surprise as he finally spoke: “That so?”

Aiden nodded faintly, knowing what his next question is.

The young man nudged a pebble around with his foot. “According to the game, the guy I tried to kill today, Downes, he has tuberculosis, and he gives it to you when you go after him to collect a debt. Which I’m guessing was gonna happen today. When I saw you talking to Strauss last night, I knew what was in store for you if I didn’t do something.”

Arthur scratched his beard absentmindedly: “Tuberculosis you say? Guess I finally get what’s comin’ to me.” He scoffed. “Maybe you should’ve just let him, I ain’t worth dirtyin’ your hands over” He grumbled under his breath as he shifted to stoke the campfire with a stick.

Arthur’s comment snapped Aiden out of his melancholy, replacing it with a burst of unnameable anger rising in his chest. He grabbed the big man by the jaw and turned his head to face himself, not caring that Arthur is near twice his size: “Look at me, Arthur Morgan.” The outlaw scoffs again and twists free of the hold, unsure what to make of the sudden change in Aiden’s tone. The young man didn’t relent and turned his chin again harshly. This time Arthur didn’t resist, “I said look at me, you idiot.” Aiden’s voice low and simmering, making the hardened gunslinger flinch. Arthur’s gaze wavered as it met his companion’s as if testing a bath of scalding water.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are not a bad person. You are a good man, a kind man raised in a bad situation and that will never ever be your fault. You hear me?” Aiden paused for a moment to let that sink in. Arthur’s Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously, a million emotions flitting across his blue eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Aiden beat him to the punch.

“And to be clear, I don’t give two shits about ‘dirtying my hands’ if it means saving your damn life. I’m a man too, an outlaw just like you. I know I’m not as badass as you, but I’m not some porcelain doll either. I would rip Downes and his family apart limb by limb if I have to. I just… well, I need a bit of practice is all. I saw harm coming your way, and I’ll be damned if I won’t burn down whole cities to stop it. You deserve to be loved and protected, and that’s the end of it.” The dark-haired man held Arthur’s gaze firmly, a wildfire blazing in his eyes.

“I don’t need…” Arthur mumbled, struggling to break free of the trance that is his lover’s newfound fierceness.

“Just nod if we’re clear.”

The young man let go of Arthur when he finally dips his chin. “Good.” Aiden sighed heavily as the fire drained out of his eyes, and pulled his stubborn lover in for a kiss.

“You can be real scary. You know that?” Arthur half-whispered as he rested his forehead against Aiden’s and took in his scent. The corner of his lips curled with the slightest hint of a smile. “Maybe Strauss should be sendin’ you after them poor bastards instead.”

Aiden grinned: “You have no idea, pretty boy” The two men basked in the comfort of each other for a while watching the crackling campfire.

“You’re not mad I lied?” Aiden said, trying ro rekindle the conversation.

Arthur pressed his nose against Aiden’s soft black hair. “Well, I ‘spose I ain’t really that surprised. ‘Course I wasn’t expecting this, you bein’ a wizard and all. But I mean, the way you popped out of nowhere, wanderin’ the streets dressed the way you were. Your lil’ story was damn obvious if you ask me. I reckon the whole gang caught on right away.” Arthur laughed, “a runaway rancher as pretty an’ clean as you? Come on…”

Aiden’s face flushed, pulling another throaty chuckle from the rugged gunslinger. “If you guys knew all along why didn’t anyone call me out?”

“Well sugar, if you ain’t notice yet, we’re all a bunch of misfits and reprobates hidin’ from a million issues ourselves. I ‘spose we all understood.” Aiden nodded to himself, grateful that the gang gave him the time and space that he needed. “But even Bill and Micah didn’t say anything?” Aiden sounded surprised given his knowledge of the scumbags that were those two.

“Well, let’s just say I convinced them to reconsider things.” Arthur winked, sending butterflies down his young companion’s stomach.

“Damn daddy.” Aiden said under his breath, thinking back to the numerous bruises on the pair’s faces after returning from “a stroll” in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment if you think Arthur's voice isn't being captured correctly. That's my #1 concern when writing this fic.


	3. A Lifetime of Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur reveals a dark secret about his past.

Chapter 3

“God I’ve never felt so tired in my life, who knew executing people is such tiring work,” Aiden spoke with a lightness in his voice, as if a boulder on his chest has finally been lifted.

“But you didn’t shoot him.” Arthur pointed out.

“In my mind I did.”

Arthur snorted and said: “Well, thinkin’ and doing are two different pairs of shoes sweetheart. But I remember that feelin’ when I first killed a man, just about. Like you wanna sleep but forgot how to close your eyes.” Arthur parted his legs and pulled Aiden against his chest . “So if you’re from the future, I reckon you already know the first feller I killed.”

“Nope, it wasn’t mentioned in the game. But I’m picturing some guy you got in a bar fight with cause he kept making fun of Hosea and Dutch for being your gay dads.” Aiden laughed.

Arthur snickered at the thought, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat. There was a sadness at the corner of his lips, fleeting but unmistakable. “But that's not it, is it?” He said softly, taking Arthur’s large hand and unfurling it. Aiden gently kissed his palm and wrist, nuzzling his nose against the callouses. “You’ve got me now, you know. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I want you to know you don’t have to keep it all in. Not anymore.”

“It ain’t a pretty story sweetheart, ‘fraid it’ll foul your mood. Don’t know why I brought it up.” Arthur said in a low voice. Aiden kissed the back of Arthur’s thumb before looking up with nothing but tenderness in his eyes. A quiet assurance.

Arthur pulled Aiden tighter against his body for the courage to tell the story he’s never mentioned before. “First killed a man when I was about 12, right after my mama died. A feller in town who told me he’s got some farm work that pays, an’ then he went and started shoving his fingers down my pants once he got me alone.” Arthur stared at the fire, fidgeting the spit-roasted rabbit halfheartedly. “I took his knife and stuck him right in his pipe when he wasn’t looking, that feller’s eyes bulged so wide I reckoned it was gonna pop right out...but that was after he...you know. Now that I think about it, that was my first robbery too,” The outlaw chuckled dryly. The flames danced slowly in his ocean eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s the reason why I’m so messed up inside. I got so scared when I started feelin’ things I shouldn’t be for John when we was growin’ up, scared that it was because of what happened. Then I get so angry sometimes I go an’ kill animals just for the hell of it. I go on these killin’ sprees just to take my mind off things for a bit an’ afterward I feel so bad I just wanna…..wanna do everyone a favor an’ put an end to things.” Arthur rubbed his nose to disguise a sniffle, but his voice was thinner than ever. "I- I’m so...scared, all the time." He added quietly. Anxious and confused and frightened and vulnerable.

Aiden’s face was frozen from the revelation. None of this ever showed up in the game... He turned and stood on his knees to hold Arthur’s face, kissing away tears that have waited so long to be released. His nose gently nuzzling at the lines carved by a lifetime of deprivation and heartache.

“Arthur I’m so sorry, I never knew. None of this-I’m so so sorry.” Aiden repeated like a broken record, not knowing what else to do but to try and kiss away the raw pain pouring out of the man in front of him. Aiden gently pressed the gunslinger’s head against his chest. “Let go; it’s okay, I’m right here. Just us alone. you can let go now.” Arthur held onto Aiden like a man grasping at reeds in a hurricane. Arthur’s soft whimpering soon turned into a flood of heaving sobs. A flood that was effortlessly destroying the dam he has been building all his life. He gasped as if he was drowning, for the air had turned into water. “It’s okay. It’s okay” The young man soothed. He took off Arthur’s worn hat and combed through the blonde hair with his fingers, massaging the scalp. “Shhhh…” His other hand stroked the outlaw’s broad back just the way he did for Aiden earlier that day.

After what seemed like a storm that lasted for years, Arthur’s crying finally eased up. Aiden guided him to their tent and sat him down on the bedroll. The younger man was surprised Arthur didn’t complain when he tugged off his boots and belt. The slumped man just stared at his companion with watery eyes. He usually hated being coddled like this. “I ain’t a child Aiden, I can take off my goddamn boots.” he would grumble, though if one looked closely, they’d see he was smiling.

“There, now lie down.” Aiden gave the big man a slight push and crawled up behind him. Guess it’s finally my turn to be the big spoon. Aiden mused as he planted a kiss on the back of Arthur’s neck. Not that he would ever admit it, but the grumpy gunslinger was secretly melting from the role reversal. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel guilty as hell for letting himself be taken care of. Arthur rubbed against the thin arm beneath his face. “Thank you,” he whispered in the darkness.

“Don’t think anything of it, cowboy.” Aiden smiled, “Besides, you know how pretty you look when you cry Arthur? We should do this more often.” his teasing earned him a soft elbow to his groin. “Shut up, it ain’t happenin’ again you hear?” Arthur huffed.

Aiden laughed at the giant teddy bear of a man and pulled him closer. “But seriously, I want you to know you never have to hide anything when you’re with me, okay? I’ll always stick up for you, the same way you are for me.” The young man lazily nipped at Arthur’s ear, pulling a sleepy grunt from the man.

“It ain’t true you know, what you said earlier.”

“Which part?”

“The part where you said anyone could have been better than you. Ain’t no one in the world would treat an ugly old bastard like me the way you do. I don’t deserve it, you know.”

“Go to sleep, Mr. Morgan. I’m not gonna debate this again, I love you, and you deserve to be loved, the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of emotional release for Arthur before the duo will have to tackle the problems that come with time-traveling.
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked it:)


	4. Desperado-In-Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur teaches Aiden how to shoot, but ends up having happy time instead. John and Arthur plays a prank on Aiden.

Chapter 4

Aiden turned the weapon Arthur had just plopped into his hands, feeling its heft. Like Arthur’s Cattleman revolver, the varmint rifle he is holding also sported a bright silver barrel and scope. The body is complemented by a stock of finely sanded wide-grain dark walnut, the sheen of the varnish still new — a twist of black vines and flowers and clouds flowing elegantly along the barrel and frame. It was a stunningly beautiful weapon unregarding it’s caliber.  


Arthur is, by all means, a stoic man, often opting to bathe in the cold river rather than in a hotel. His clothes are always functional and easy, such as the tight-fitting black union shirt he’s currently donning. The stark opposite of the opulence that one often sees on Dutch and Josiah. But when it comes to the man’s tools in trade, Arthur Morgan was incredibly prickly, never taking anything less than the very finest of arms, taking care of them so fervently that even Aiden feels jealous. The gunsmith is often Arthur’s first stop when the gang travels near a new town. One might wonder if Arthur’s masterful marksmanship is merely the gratitude of his weapons manifest.

“Why do I get the varmint rifle? And why did you have to drag me out here so early?” Aiden complained with sleep still lingering in his eyes.

“Cause I reckon that’s the only one you’ll be able to handle right now. Wouldn’t want to break your pretty little shoulders now would we princess? We’re out here cause you was yappin’ again bout’ bein’ a proper outlaw. Whatever that means. The first thing you need is to learn how to shoot.” Arthur said as he leaned against a tree. “Besides, the varmint ain’t all bad. It’s longer and lighter, helpin’ it keep steady when you’re shootin’. It ain’t got much kick either, good for a skinny feller like yourself.” Arthur teasingly grabbed at Aiden’s arm to prove his point, Prompting the younger man to shoo his hand away with a frown. “Now a gun like this ain’t gon’ stop a man in his tracks like a Springfield, but it’ll still kill jus’ fine if you know where you’re shootin’.” Arthur lectured as he moved his palm in circular motions in front of his chest, neck, and face. “Now let’s see what you’re working with, take a shot at them bottles over there.” He gestured toward a row of empty whiskey bottles lined up neatly on a fallen tree in a clearing; a cigarette lit between his middle and forefinger. 

“Stop calling me a princess; I’m a grown ass man, Arthur. I can handle big boys guns.” Aiden mumbled, though he still followed the older man’s instructions.

“Sure. Prove it then, pretty ‘lil princess. Go on.” Arthur drawled as he took another drag, making sure to enunciate ‘princess’ very clearly. Aiden glared at the older man and raised the rifle to his right shoulder to aim. The young man shifted a few times trying to balance the weight of the gun in his hands correctly. Arthur was right; the long, skinny rifle felt more comfortable in his hands than the heavier Lancaster lever-action that Arthur never robs a train without.

BANG. “ow..” Aiden groaned as he lowered the rifle to rub at his shoulder, which was most definitely bruised by the recoil. A light wisp of smoke snaked toward the sky from the tip of the barrel. All the whiskey bottles were still sitting safely on the log. Arthur snickered and shook his head, hiding his eyes beneath the brim of his hat.

“Here gimme that,” Arthur took the rifle and held it up with both hands. “You gotta really lean into the stock, like this, see?” He shifted so Aiden could see his posture. “Take your time aimin’, A shot missed is a shot ain’t worth takin’,” Arthur said as he pumped another round into the chamber with one arm and fired without taking any time to aim. In the clearing, the bottle on the end of the log exploded into shards.

“Show off....” Aiden grumbled under his breath and grabbed the rifle back, still grumpy from being dragged out of bed. He wondered if Arthur really can slow down time when he’s shooting the way he does in the game.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s been blusterin’ all day about how you want to come robbin’ with the Gang. You plan on robbin’ a stagecoach with a typewriter do ya?” Arthur teased with his signature half-grin.

“I’m a programmer you dickhead, and I’ll have you know that typing 56 words a minute is a real fucking skill. Where I came from the world is run by programmers.” Aiden huffed in indignation.

“Not these parts they don’t. Here is run by whoever’s the best shot, biscuit. ‘An so far you’re rankin’ pretty low.” Arthur pushed further. The gunslinger not-so-secretly loved ticking off his boyfriend, to watch his face turn red from frustration. _Such a pretty little thing._ “Now come on, take another shot, we ain’t got all day.”

Aiden lifted the varmint rifle once more, his eyes lining up the iron sights.

“Breathe slowly; an’ take your shots in between breaths,” Arthur instructed calmly, leaning closer to Aiden to see what he is seeing. “Take your time Aiden, make it count.”

Aiden silently drew in a breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. His eyes were focusing in on his target as his ears filtered out the sound of the wilderness around. The young man drew in another deep breath and held the air in his chest as Arthur instructed. His arms were slowly becoming still. He pulled the trigger.

Another gunshot snapped like a crackling whip, and there was one less bottle sitting on the log. “Ayyyy who’s your daddy?” Aiden cheered as he lowered the gun, looking at Arthur to stroke his ego. The older man chuckled lightly as he considered teasing Aiden for getting cocky already. “Good. Keep goin’.”

Aiden nodded as his confidence swelled. He turned to face the fallen tree in the clearing, pumping another round with more ease.

In through the nose.

Aim.

Shoot.

Out through the mouth. 

The outlaw-in-training took ample time between each shot, and one by one the whiskey bottles were reduced to pieces. Aiden exhaled dramatically as he pushed the hammer back into the safe position and turned to Arthur with a toothy smile that the man loved so much. He dropped the gun as he leaped onto his companion, looping his arms around his neck. Arthur welcomed the embrace with a playful ‘oof’ and pulled Aiden in for a kiss. “So proud of you darlin’.” Arthur breathed, his voice rumbling magnetically. He retook Aiden’s lips in a deeper, more passionate kiss. Arthur’s piercing eyes gleamed wickedly, he suddenly hoisted Aiden up against his body in one fell swoop, driving him forcefully against a tree. Aiden let out a weak gasp, but before Aiden could recover from the impact, Arthur deepened the wet kiss even further, licking his tongue across Aiden’s in a lewd motion that made him blush.

“Hmm…” Aiden whimpered into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur hummed approvingly as he reached up his lover’s white shirt to explore Aiden’s lean torso. sending waves of electricity up his spine as the calloused hand rubbed against a sensitive nipple. Aiden arched into the relentless hand kneading him with bruising strength as their crushing kiss continued. Arthur finally loosened his grip on the back of Aiden’s head when they both began to turn red from the lack of oxygen, breaking the sloppy kiss with glistening lines of saliva still connecting their tongues. Then without letting the younger man catch his breath, Arthur immediately pressed his mouth against his neck, causing him to inhale sharply through his teeth. Aiden twitched as Arthur took a fist full of his shoulder-length black hair and pulled back his head assertively, making Aiden bare his neck even more. Arthur eyed his lover hungrily for a moment before closing in again, sucking on the sensitive skin on the side, licking over his pulse in small circles. Aiden’s jaw went slack as a breathy moan dripped out of him, his hips instinctively grinding against Arthur’s crotch. _It’s finally happening_ , Aiden thought.

“Nice shootin’, little man.” A husky voice interrupted. “Fuck!” Arthur practically flew away from Aiden like a puffed up housecat while the shorter man also stumbled back a few steps. His face turning bright red as he was brutally yanked from his lustful haze. John Marston emerged from behind a tree. His double-barrel slung over his shoulder. _A handsome man,_ Aiden thought to himself. His messy black hair accentuated the fire in his honey brown eyes. His hard years marked him mercilessly. The two wolf claw marks splitting his lengthening stubble only added to the man’s rugged appeal. Aiden always thought John appeared much older than himself, despite being only two years younger than the hardened outlaw. It was easy to see why Arthur would be attracted to John.

“Jesus fucking Christ Marston, why you always gotta creep up like this? How long have you been spyin’ on us?” Arthur snapped, not entertained in the least by the intrusion. “Maybe Aiden here might spook ‘an shoot you next time. Here’s hoping anyway.” Arthur’s way of greeting John always warmed Aiden’s heart for some reason, knowing the two have secretly loved each other since forever.

“Calm down old man, wasn’t even talkin’ to you.” John retorted and nodded at Aiden. “So you’re running off on us already? Saw you sneakin’ off the other day. Suppose I can’t blame you, having this grumpy old bastard here followin’ you ‘round all day. I probably would have thrown myself off a cliff by now if I were you.” John chuckled with satisfaction.

“Just shut up Marston,” Arthur grumbled.

“So why ain’t you shooting with a real gun, little man? You plan on doing jobs with that ‘lil pecker?” John gestured at the rifle.

“See Arthur? I told you I need a real gun. Not this pea-shooting bullshit. I. Am. A. Man.” Aiden nodded enthusiastically, stepping back closer to John.

“Here, Morgan has no idea what he’s doin'. I’m a better shot anyway. I’ll teach you,” John set down his coffee and unslung his double-barrel shotgun for Aiden. “Go on, give it a try,” John said, trying to hide a smile.

Aiden did not miss the mischievous look that the two men passed between each other. What are they plotting now? But eager to prove himself, he quickly raised the gun, took aim and fired.

BOOM. Birds flocked to the sky as the weapon’s deafening roar swept through the forest and back.

“shit!!” the two brothers in arms watched as Aiden practically flew backward and landed on his back in the dirt.

The two men broke down howling. Arthur was bent over with his hand on his knees. While John was supporting himself against a tree with his head thrown back. Both were on the verge of tears and struggling to breathe.

“I fucking hate both of you.” Aiden groaned as he laid his head back down on the ground.

“That’s a...That’s a good one Marston…” Arthur struggled between breaths, his face glowing red. “I can’t...I can’t breathe..” John gasped as he wiped tears from his eyes. The two men went on to laugh on another hot minute as Aiden lied on the ground sighing in defeat. 

“Come on; we should head back to camp. Reckon we already woke the whole damn town. And we got work to do.” Arthur pulled Aiden from the dirt and ruffled his hair. The outlaws still recovering from the best prank they have pulled in a long time.

“Fuck you guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit more of the light-hearted fluff before the couple will have to deal with the repercussions of meddling with history. Also setting up for a potential Arthur/Aiden/John action in the next few chapters (Not nessicarily romance, if you catch my drift). First time trying to write smut (if you can call it that) Please go easy on me lol.


	5. Careful is My Second Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden’s fears come true as the consequences of trying to alter history starts to show itself.

“There you are.” Charles’ velvet baritone was immediately recognizable as he emerged from behind a bush. His silky black hair tied back in a loose ponytail with a thin strip of leather, dark beads hanging off each end. His steel blue shirt draped down to his thighs, meeting a sawed-off shotgun in its holster on his right leg. The fact that the man can weld a shotgun one-handed is a testament to his tremendous strength.

“Yeehaw daddy,” Aiden whispered with a smile, the way he does every time he sees Charles. Arthur does not miss this detail.

“Mornin’,” said Arthur. “We still going on that job that Uncle scoped out?” 

“Yeah, that’s why I came, we should be leaving soon if we want to catch the coach.” 

“Sure,” Arthur drawled. “We best go make sure Uncle doesn’t weasel his way out of this, he’s comin’ with if we’re gonna run this fool’s errand.” He waved contemptuously, already imagining the myriad of excuses Uncle will undoubtedly produce.

“Wait, what? The Cornwall stagecoach? That’s not until chapter 3.” Aiden blurted, drawing confused looks from the three older men. Arthur squinted and shook his head subtly. _Not now, Aiden._ The younger man realized his slip-up and fell silent. Charles, never one to miss a thing, studied Arthur and Aiden for a moment, an indecipherable glimmer in his dark eyes. But the man just turned around and continued back toward camp, picking up the conversation about the job as if nothing happened.

Aiden stalked behind his friends, deep in thought: _What the fuck?_

A deeply unsettling sensation curled inside Aiden’s stomach. A chapter three mission is happening while everyone was still in chapter two. Being an avid sci-fi nerd, Aiden is not entirely unfamiliar with the potential repercussions of interfering with history; thus he had resisted the urge to intervene with the chain of events he’s familiar with, up until the incident at Downes’ farm. The programmer-turned-outlaw had prayed that by quietly killing Downes without anyone in the gang noticing could both save Arthur and hopefully avoid significant changes to the near future.

Now, the first of the consequences borne from his actions are starting to take shape. All he can hope for now is for it to not blow up in his face.

The young outlaw’s eyes remained glued to the ground when he bumped into Arthur. “Woah there, you alright?” the rugged man held Aiden by his shoulders, sensing his mood.

“Yeah….walk with me for a bit, cowboy” Aiden tugged Arthur toward the edge of the camp. “Okay…” Arthur’s voice equal parts intrigued and concerned as he went along. “This is about the job ain’t it?” He looked around to make sure they were out of earshot.

“Yeah… listen, I need to come with you guys on this one.” Aiden asked gingerly, already anticipating the rejection.

“Absolutely not.” Arthur scoffed, “You can’t even shoot straight yet, I already have those fools to worry about, and I don’t need to add you too.”

“This is important, Arthur. I think what happened at Downes’ farm is starting to mess with how things are supposed to happen.” Aiden bit his lip as he gathered his thoughts.

“You ain’t comin’, end of discussion. It’s too dangerous, ‘an who knows if that drunken fool is leading us into a goddamn goose chase again.” Arthur steeled his tone, hoping to intimidate Aiden into submission.

“I can take care of myself Arthur, I won’t slow you down, I promise” Aiden reassured. “I just really need to go get a feel at how much things are changing.”

“I said _no._ ” Arthur turned to his side. “Other than you gettin’ ahead o’ yourself what the hell does this have to do with anything?”

“This time-traveling stuff is super complicated, and I can’t really wrap my head around it either. So basically, for example, I read in a book that wrote ‘Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time’ it told a story about a woman who traveled 500 years into the past. She was only there for five days before she returned to her time. But during those five days, she already changed enough things that impacted her time a lot. Like a lot, a lot. A whole bunch of people related to her just disappeared into thin air, Arthur. They were _unborn_ cause of whatever she did unintentionally. I’ve been here for months now, Arthur. Months. God knows how much I have already changed just by hanging around doing nothing.” Aiden cursed himself for not being able to better explain things other than referencing Harry Potter, another work of fantasy. 

“That still doesn’t explain why it has anything to do with the job! Not to mention why the hell it’d be a good idea to bring you to a firefight when all you’ll do is get in the way.” Arthur crossed his arms, staring down at his companion impatiently.

“Would you stop treating me like a little kid?” Aiden raised his voice, his patience slipping away.

“I will if you stop acting like one!” Arthur shouted in return as he flung his arms wide and a took a big step forward, closing the gap between them. Arthur’s voice was dangerous, and he could feel himself teetering on the edge of saying things he will regret. “This job ain’t safe for you.”

“This job isn’t even supposed to be happening. At all.” Aiden also lowered his voice. Arthur’s intense protectiveness can be suffocating. But Aiden understands, he knows that Arthur is so fiercely protective of him because everyone he’s ever loved was taken away. “Not for a while anyway. I need to come with to see why it’s happening now and how much differently things go down, hopefully, get a grip on the depth of shit we might be in.” Aiden sighed, his voice softening into a plead. “Please, Art. I need to know. I already don’t have much to offer, if I can’t even use my knowledge to anticipate what’s coming our way then what good am I? If I can’t even help out in the littlest ways possible, what’s the point of me staying here just to drag everybody down? I just don’t want to keep feeling so useless.” Aiden cast his eyes down in a subtle display of deference.

“You ain’t-“ Arthur turned around, pinching the bridge of his nose to cool off. He was quiet for a moment as he mulled over his next words. “I didn’t say you were useless. I just… I’m just trying to protect you too, sweetheart. Look, I’ll take you on a job soon, I promise.” Arthur’s tone eased up some, but his expression left no room for argument and Aiden knew better than pushing Arthur further. The older man glanced toward the camp quickly to make sure no one was watching before reaching to hold Aiden’s arms, squeezing slightly as they glided up to his shoulders where they stopped. “C’mere” Arthur murmured, and Aiden compliantly took a step closer, letting his man kiss his forehead. Arthur reached back and squeezed the back of his neck, knowing that always made his younger lover relax.

Aiden exhaled slowly through his nose, feeling his shoulders loosen up a bit: “This job is gonna go wrong, you know? I mean at this point I don’t even have to be from the future to figure that out.”

Arthur breathed out a light snicker and kissed Aiden again, gently tugging his bottom lip: “Course it’s gonna go wrong, It always does with that old fool. But I always get back alright don’t I?” Aiden dipped his head reluctantly, reaching out to take Arthur’s calloused hand, rubbing it absently with his thumb.

“At least let me walk you through what I remember about this job. So the guy sitting on the right is going to put up a bit of a fight, but you only need to knock him out. His friend on the left is going give it up easy; The money is gonna be in the first box in, it’ll only be latched but not locked. Once you stop the wagon, you’ll have about 30 seconds before the rest of the caravan realizes what’s going on and send their men after you.” Aiden held Arthur’s gaze carefully as he went through the points of the job, making sure he was listening. The younger man wracked his brain trying to remember more details, but it had been months since he played the game. And now things might not go the way he remembers anyway. This is real life now.

Arthur nodded with his eyebrow raise as he scratched his chin with the tip of his thumb, trying to take it all in. Being told exactly how the future is going to unfold is something he will never get used to. Arthur playfully tousled Aiden’s hair once more: “Where were you when we was in Blackwater?” Arthur’s smile is beautiful. _Shame so few get to see it._ Aiden thought to himself. “Any more advice, little wizard?” 

“Uh, remember to cover your face with your bandana,” Aiden offered, trying to be useful. Arthur rolled his eyes and mumbled: “Yes, miss Grimshaw.”

Aiden shook his head toward the ground, his own lips lifting in a small smile. Arthur tipped his hat in farewell and turned to join the trio already waiting on their horses by the edge of the camp’s clearing.

“Be careful,” Aiden called out.

”Careful is my second name.” Arthur smirked.

Aiden wandered at the edge of camp as he watched the men ride off, rays of easterly gold sifting through the cloud of dust.

_Like fuck I ain’t going._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2019.01.12 update: Hi guys, just wanted to let you know that I’m still working on the story whenever I can. But I’ve been hit by a surge of things at work and that’s why I haven’t posted the next chapter. Hope you understand :) Love you!
> 
> Finally getting to the meat of the storyline (Other than the smut, for those of you filthy animals who are here for that. Though it is in the works right now lolololol) 
> 
> Our Big Bad Outlaw x Time Traveling Nerd duo finally runs into their first snag in the time stream. 
> 
> Please leave a kudos if you liked this chapter. Leave a comment and bookmark if you loved it. It’s a huge encouragement for starting writers like myself :)


	6. Oh Just Wait Till This Barn Catches Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The job goes very wrong. Charles almost dies. John gets closer to Arthur and Aiden.

“I’ve been scopin’ jobs like this since you fellers were knee-high to a grasshopper.” Uncle ribbed lazily at Bill, who’s complaining about being dragged out to work as he does with everything. The rank smell of the fat fool wafted downstream onto Arthur’s face, making him roll his eyes and shake his head with a cough. Not that any of them smelled like roses. A light scrunch of Charles’ nose told him the burly, long-haired man was also woefully bathing in the aroma of Uncle’s armpits, his gut bouncing merrily in time with the steps of his limp spotted Fox Trotter.

“The way I see it, the fool’s horse is the one that’s gotta worry about lumbago,” Arthur muttered under his breath. Charles snorted quietly and shook his head.

“What’s that, Morgan?” Uncle perked up, startling Charles and Arthur both with his elusive skill of super-human hearing, activated only by mentions of booze or insult.

“Nothin’.” Arthur and Charles poorly disguised their grins by turning their heads. Charles let out a strained cough as Bill looked back and forth between the group, trying unsuccessfully to piece together the situation as always.

“I heard that! You are a sick man, Arthur Morgan. A very sick man indeed.” Uncle whined. “Making fun of my condition; it’s deadly, you know? A real serious disease.”

“Please.” Arthur grunted. “So this wagon, whose is it?” Arthur probed with mild curiosity, turning over the details Aiden had told him earlier about the job. _Two men, first box in, closed but not locked._ The weight of Aiden’s knowledge had to be tremendous, but somehow he just can’t feel it on his shoulders, the same way everyone else’s hardships in camp does. Somehow, Arthur still expected Aiden would nudge up on him that night by the fire, and gleefully confess that he made all of it up. 

“Oh just some local business, old Uncle’s got it all scoped out, all you young fellers need to do is haul the cash. It’s way too much for me to carry” Uncle let out a nervous laugh, quieting down in when no one joined in. Arthur grunted with his eyes narrowed, Wondering if Uncle really didn’t know the truth. Or where he got the lead from to begin with, seeing that he’s always in the camp, either passed out under a tree or harassing the men for money to buy more whiskey. “Hold up here.” Uncle signaled as the group approached the hill where the inbound wagon will pass through.

“We should cover our faces,” Charles said, the men pulled up their bandanas as the wagon rose up from the horizon and quickly rounded the road by the hill. Now briefly isolated from the rest of the caravan. “Just like clockwork,” Uncle chuckled at his brilliance as the group converged on the passing wagon at galloping speed. The men loudly commanded the couriers to stop the cart, who appeared absurdly unfazed for two unarmed workers being held at gunpoint by nasty looking highwaymen.

A masked Williamson bellowed at the couriers: “Don’t try anything _stupid_ and we won’t do any—“

“Okay, you got us!” The courier on the right interjected. A glimmer in his eyes was so eerily upbeat to the point of almost being _happy_ that they are being robbed. “We’re stopping now!” The muscles in his neck twisted powerfully as he raised his thick-fingered hands in surrender. 

Uncle cackled as he nudged Bill: “See Williamson? I told you this would be a sweet piece of cake, just waiting to be eaten! It’s almost too good!”

“Then it probably _is_ , dumbass,” Arthur mumbled to himself.

 _Thirty seconds._ Aiden’s voice reminded. _Before the rest of them shows up._

“Don’t use my real name, you idiot!” Bill yelled back, unwittingly confirming Uncle’s slip-up.

_Twenty-six_

Arthur had swung back and observed the interaction cautiously. Why did the men guarding the wagon seem so eager to give up their prize? _Since when did couriers look more like wrestlers?_ The _wrongness_ in the air prickled the back of Arthur’s scalp. The same prickling sensation that kept him alive through all these years of being hunted and sought after by the rope. Arthur Morgan swung off his horse, silver Lancaster clutched tightly in his hand, his knuckles blanching white. Arthur slowly approached the back of the wagon. The gravel road crunched and ground under his boots as he stalked toward the wagon, placing each step as if he were on a snowy cliff.

_Twenty_

“You fellers do know that we work for _Cornwall Kerosene and Tar_ right?” The beefy courier on the left brandished the name like a weapon. The hint of a smile becoming more than just a hint. 

“You better shut up, or I’ll have to put one right between your eyes.” Bill rumbles dangerously, jabbing his pistol closer to the courier. “Well what are you waiting for!” He swung his head impatiently toward the back. Arthur glanced at Charles, the man most capable of the three to find that he was already looking back at Arthur with the same apprehension.

“Come on Charles, let’s see what these fine gentlemen have for us back here,” Arthur feigned nonchalance. “Sure,” Charles took up on the silent request for backup and swung off his horse, saw-off in hand. The duo cautiously approached the back, Charles stopped with his back flush against the right side on the rear and cocked his weapon slowly. Arthur paused just shy of the wagon’s open back, a small breath of relief escaped when he saw a corner of the lockbox Aiden described, sitting right where it’s supposed to. _I’m just getting paranoid, old fool._ Still, Arthur approached the box as if it were strapped with dynamite. For all he knew, it just might be.

_Sixteen_

Charles nodded sharply, signaling his support should anything happen. His eyes focused like an eagle’s. Arthur returned the nod and slowly reached toward the box, tugged gingerly at the latch which creaked sharply as it separated from the shackle. It’s unlocked, just like he should’ve expected. Arthur let out a chuckling sigh, shaking his head in self-deprecation as he popped open the rusty metal chest. He rummaged inside without looking until he felt what he was looking for, the pleasant sensation of a stack of bills brushing against his fingers. “Hey, got somethin’ here,” Arthur called as he pulled out the stack, thumbing through it briskly and closing the box. “Okay, we’re lookin’ good, must be nearly a thou—“

Too late. A muddy boot smashed into Arthur’s face with blinding force, sending him tumbling onto the gravel with a heavy thump.

_Thirteen_

“Arthur!” Charles called out to the unconscious man when an ear-numbing crack ripped through the air behind him; A warm streak made its way down his cheek where he was grazed. Charles snapped toward the source of the shot. The rifle exhaled lazily in the ‘courier’s’ meaty hands. A second shot shattered the momentary silence, followed by Uncle’s shriek as he fell from his horse and Bill’s roar as he yanked the second triggerman from his seat. Charles barely had time to draw on his assailant before a rough hand from inside the wagon caught a handful of his long hair and jerked upward. Charles cried out in pain as his body slammed back against the side of the wagon. His hand shot up instinctively to counteract the pulling, eyes widened as his shooter quickly closed in on him with a hunting knife, narrowly catching the knife by the blade thrusting toward his abdomen. The serrated backside dug into his flesh savagely, rivets of blood quickly drenched the blade as the dark-skinned man wailed in agony, weakened by the man pulling his hair from inside the wagon, Charles couldn’t resist the strength of both his attackers for long. His right arm swiped frantically above his head in an attempt to pry off the hand grasping his hair while his bleeding left trembled as the knife-wielding henchman pushed hard against the hilt with both hands. “Mr. Cornwall says hello.” A feral grin spread across the bastard’s face as he gave another thrust. Charles gasped shallowly and curled in as the tip pierced his skin, a crimson flower bloomed against his blue shirt.

_Eleven_

Arthur’s head swam as he propped himself up, the world blurred and doubled. He grunted as he tried to focus on the situation unfolding in front of him. On the left side, Bill was grappling with a muscle-bound courier; their bodies twisted together on the ground, each trying to get a hold of the revolver dropped just out of their reach, at the same time straining to keep their opponent away from it. Next to them lied Uncle, his orange shirt stained with blood from an unseen wound. Arthur had to squint to see that the fat man was still breathing. He shook his head again as he turned to the right to see Charles under assault by two men, the knife tip pressing into him. _Shit shit shit._ Arthur shakily pulled out his sidearm; his ears rang as if pressed against a church bell. He pointed the weapon at the henchman in front of Charles, but his arm wouldn’t stop drawing circles in the air, not to mention he saw two Charles’, and two knife-wielding maniacs. He half-lidded eyes flitted to Charles then Bill; he can’t help them, not without the risk of shooting his friends instead. 

_Nine_

Charles roared as he pushed back with his last wave of strength, his nostril flaring. The hunting knife barely moved back before sinking deeper into his body. He was going to die.

A muted pop rang through the air, the grunting and struggling fell silent as the sound echoed through the hills. A body tumbled from above Charles and landed right in front of Arthur's face. The brutal dogfight resumed without skipping a beat. Stumbling as he climbed to his feet, Arthur regarded the body fleetingly. _Long echoes, shooter is far away. No exit wound, the bullet is small. Very small._ Only one person he knew used such a small caliber weapon. _Aiden, you goddamned fool!_ Arthur scrambled to his feet and briskly scanned the hillsides for his lover, anger and worry pushing the fog from his head.

_Seven_

With his hair free, Charles grabbed at the henchmen’s neck, jerking his head toward his own in a vicious head-butt. The triggerman shouted in pain and temporarily lost his grip on the hunting knife. Charles ripped the blade from him, slamming it against the side of the wagon, pointing it outward. Without letting go of the man’s neck, he began to press his face against the knife. Dazed and unable to resist Charles’ Herculean strength, the henchman braced himself wildly against the side of the wagon to avoid the inevitable. “No please, I’m sorry...” He begged pathetically, if he could take one look at Charles he would know there will be no mercy. His arms gave out like a twig in a hurricane that is Charles’ fury. His face slammed against the knife with a sickening _squelch_. A torrent of blood erupted from the henchman’s left cheek and landed onto Arthur and Charles. The knife held against the wagon now buried to the hilt in the henchman’s head. 

A choking wheeze echoed out of the man, from which orifice one will never know, he had somehow survived. Without a moment’s hesitation, Charles grabbed the man’s hair for purchase and pulled his face off the knife he held against the wooden surface and slammed him against the knife once more. Then again, and again. And again. Until the wheezing sound ceased, Arthur watched in awe, flinching at each squelching thrust as more blood sprayed in all directions. The man’s face now an unrecognizable heap of red pulp, brains, and eyeballs dripping out of the freshly drilled holes. Charles dropped the corpse on the ground, meeting Arthur’s stare, his eyes burning with rage, doubly lethal with blood soaking his face and hair. Arthur gulped, raising his hands reflexively. In all his years of robbing and killing, he had never seen anyone annihilate a man with such unrelenting prejudice. Right there stood a demon Arthur would never, ever fuck with.

_Four_

“Will one of you bastards help me?!” Bill’s voice pulled Arthur from his trance, and he quickly pulled the second henchman off of Bill and threw him to the ground. Bill scrambled to retrieve his gun and pounced on the sprawling henchman, pressing the muzzle against the back of his head. 

_BANG_ the henchman fell limp. 

_BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG_ “Fucking moron,” Bill spat on the bullet-riddled corpse and holstered his smoking revolver. Right on cue, Uncle sat up and whimpered: “Is it over? They all dead?” 

“Course you were playin’ dead, you wimp.” Arthur hissed and scooped up his hat then gave Uncle’s legs a hard kick. “OW!” ”Now get on your horses, their friends will be showin’ up right about now.” 

_Zero_

A bullet tore through the wood panel on the wagon, sending splinters flying everywhere, then another, and another. A hail of metal started raining down on them as angry shouts joined the cacophony of gunfire from the hill as riders emerged.

“Ah you just gotta jinx it, don’t you Morgan?” Bill squawked as he mounted his horse. “There’s at least twenty of ‘em!” 

“So get riding!” Charles shouted back, and the group took off like the wind. 

“You moron!” Arthur barked at Uncle as he snapped the reins, pushing his horse hard. “I knew it was gonna go wrong, but I should’ve known just going _wrong_ isn’t enough for you, you had to lead us into an army!” 

“Most guarded wagon in goddamn history!” Bill added eagerly. 

“How was I to know?” Uncle exclaimed. 

“Keep it together! Everyone stay tight,” Charles interrupted as he spurred his horse on, shepherding the group to bank left. 

“Just shut up and keep riding,” Uncle shouted while bullets whizzed past their heads, “They’re gaining on us! Shit, there’s a lot of them. Light a shuck, boys! Get rid of these sons of bitches.” 

“the hell does it look like I’m doing?” Arthur growled, ejecting a shell from his rifle. He twisted back toward their pursuers as they rounded the trail and squeezed the trigger. A rider promptly toppled off his horse into the dirt. 

“Quick! Get off the trails, into the woods.” Uncle directed, the group forked right and galloped into the tree line, hectically dodging various branches and twigs in their way. Their horses neighed their discontent being pushed to sprint for such a long distance, nostrils flaring, their coats gleaming with sweat. 

“Okay boy, just a little bit more now,” Arthur patted the Walker’s neck as he ducked under a thick branch. the group burst out of the small forest and spotted a lone homestead; its worn down barn seemed unoccupied. 

“Le-le-let’s hide in here.” Uncle pointed at the barn. Arthur shook his head but went along as he didn’t see a better option. The group quickly dismounted and shooed off their horses, rushing toward the barn. Arthur leaned against the wall by the entrance as the others filed in, peeking through a hole in the planks he signaled the men to quiet down as he watched the horde of Cornwall’s gunmen race past the homestead and faded into the forest again. 

“Let’s stay here till sundown, then sneak out of here. Charles, you keep watch for now.” Arthur said. “While we..uh, get some rest.” 

“Sure.” Charles nodded. Arthur was beyond grateful to have such a capable and uncomplaining companion with him in this shitstorm of a heist. 

“Yeah, rest. Good idea.” Uncle’s face lit up at the thought and plopped down onto the hay-covered floor without hesitation. Bill did the same, still grumbling unintelligibly. 

Arthur remained on his feet, pinching his nose as he replayed the whole mess in his head. _Goddamn it, should’ve said no._

“Psst,” A small voice squeaked from behind a partition in the barn. Arthur and Charles whipped around at the source of the sound. 

A mud-smeared Aiden Bennett stepped into the light, followed by John Marston with his hands in his pockets. Aiden grinned like a fool, his silver varmint rifle slung across his back. 

“The _hell_ do you think you’re doin’ here?” Arthur hissed, burning holes into the two newcomers with his eyes. 

John raised his hands in mock surrender: “Hey don’t look at me, it’s Bennett here who dragged me out here with ‘im. Ain’t that right, little man?” He slapped Aiden’s shoulder. 

“Wow, thanks for the support, _Marston._ ” Aiden glared at John who stared back innocently. 

“And you couldn’t stop him? You had one job, Marston. _One job_.” Arthur rumbled angrily, recalling specifically asking John to keep Aiden from following them, knowing that the younger man would. “Can’t trust you for shit.” 

“Hey, I ain’t a babysitter, Morgan. You know I couldn’t stop him.” John retorted without bite. Arthur wrung his hands steamingly with a grunt and turned his back on the two for a split second before spinning back on his heels. 

“And you!” Arthur took a big step toward Aiden, raising his finger to jab at his shoulder, but thought better of it. “Why do you always gotta be such a pain in the ass? What part of _stay back_ don’t you understand, boy? This ain’t a game, why can’t you just listen for once? Out here I can’t always protect you.” He finished in a quieter tone.

“Did I look like need your protection?” Aiden replied cheekily, anticipating Arthur’s protectiveness. “Did you not see that shot I took from the hill? Popped that guy right in the forehead and saved _your_ asses. Charles, you’re welcome by the way,” Aiden clicked his tongue and winked at the burly man behind Arthur, who returned a nod. “You saw how fucked that went, you need all the help you can get.” 

“‘An just how you gonna help, stuck in a tiny barn with an army gunnin’ for us?” 

“Well I’m gonna throw my typewriter at them—How do you think? I’m gonna shoot them of course.” You’re a good shot right, John?” The scarred man nodded, clearly entertained by the squabble. Arthur snorted dismissively, turning his head away. “Plus, we brought some bandages and medicine, you guys look pretty messed up. Let me see that hand, Charles.” Arthur whipped around confusedly as he turned back with a new barrage of scolding, but the younger man was already walking toward Charles. 

“Tsk tsk, that a nasty cut,” Aiden squatted down next to Charles. 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Charles said in his quiet tone. 

“Can you still move your fingers? Try it.” Aiden took the injured hand and studied it. Charles winced as his forefinger twitched. “Yeah, I think so.” “Good! I was beginning to think we might have to amputate it.” Charles flinched at Aiden’s casual tone, scanning his face for any trace of humor and finding none. “Ha! Just kidding,” Aiden broke, Charles chortled while his shoulders slumped slightly. “though we do need to keep it clean of course, it’s pretty deep.” Taking out a bottle of whiskey from his messenger bag, Aiden pointed the finger at Uncle without looking. “Not for you, you sad old drunk.” Uncle pouted and rolled back on his behind. 

“So this will sting a little,” Aiden warned as he poured the dark liquid against the wound. Charles tensed up at the pain but didn’t make a sound. If there is one man more stoic than Arthur, it’d be him. Washing away the liquor with a skin of water, Aiden began wrapping the wound tightly in a cotton bandage. “How’s that feel?” The young man asked as he snipped the dressing, getting only a slight nod in return. “Thanks,” Charles added. The dark man enjoyed the attention, though he always dressed his own wounds. 

“You gotta admit, Bennett did pretty good back there.” John sat down next to Arthur as the two watched the younger man try to wrestle Bill’s head to stay still while he treated the various cuts he acquired from riding through the brush. Arthur grunted stubbornly, “He ain’t ready.” 

John chuffed: “The way you coddle him, I reckon he never will be in your book.” Ignoring the glare from the older man, he continued: “Ain’t see you treat me like glass when I first came along.” Arthur wondered what John meant by that and replied: “You were wilder than a rabid dog when Dutch brought you back. Aiden ain’t like that at all.” John smiled at the thought.

“You gotta let him live; it’s been months. I can see him gettin’ a bit crazy sometimes from bein’ cooped up all day.” 

“‘An you think I don’t?” the blonde grumbled. “I just... he ain’t ready, for this life — this way. You were there when we picked him up in Valentine lookin’ like a lost fawn. He ain’t meant for all this.” The older outlaw softened a bit at the memory. 

“None of us were.” John breathed. “He ain’t no fawn, Morgan. ‘An he sure as hell ain’t no Mary fuckin’ Gillis. So you best stop treating him like one.” John spat out Mary’s name like poison in his mouth. “You could’ve left him there, but instead you brought him back ‘an made him a wanted man. If he’s gonna last, we gotta teach him how to fight.” John’s husky voice lowered while he regarded his brother cautiously. A pang of guilt shot through Arthur at the thought of making Aiden a target; he stared at the younger man dolefully. “Besides, I’ll always keep an eye out for him. You know that Arthur. I care about the little man just as much as _you_ do.” Arthur raised an eyebrow as he felt John’s arm press against his, but John didn’t seem to notice. 

“Since when did you learn to do all this?” Bill asked gruffly. “Well, after three months of being forced to sit on my ass at camp.” Aiden looked over to make sure Arthur was listening. “I’ve had the displeasure of patching up old Arthur and John here more than a couple times.” 

Bill grunted, “Guess you ain’t totally useless after all.” A sliver of gratitude folded neatly in the brashness. 

“Aiden, come ‘mere,” Arthur called out after a long, pensive silence. The younger man perked up and strolled over. “What’s up? You hurt anywhere?” he gestured at the bruise around Arthur’s eye. 

Nah,” Arthur answered briskly as he pulled the young man down. Sat in a circle with Arthur and John, Aiden leaned in and whispered excitedly. “I love secret meetings, so what are we hiding this time?” “Nothin’.” Arthur couldn’t help but smile. He pulled out his beloved Cattleman and pushed it into Aiden’s hand. 

“Uh, what’s this for?” 

“You know how to use this?” Arthur asked quietly. 

“Sure, kinda. Hosea showed me a couple times before.” Aiden sensed the change in tone and smiled brightly. “You changed your mind?” 

“You’re still a fool for comin’ here, it’s too dangerous, Aiden.” Arthur near-whispered. 

“Oh just wait till this barn catches fire in a few hours-“Aiden’s laugh ran back down his throat when he caught Arthur’s gaze. 

“I ain’t foolin’ around, kid.” Arthur reached out to hold Aiden by his neck, a thumb pushing his chin up so the younger man meets his gaze. “If I let you with us, you promise you’ll do what I say.” Aiden nodded eagerly. “I mean it. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. Only shoot if someone is shootin’ at you. No playin’ hero, am I clear?” Arthur’s sobriety froze the air into jelly. The younger man nodded again, more hesitantly. 

“If you get hurt, I’d....” Arthur’s chest puffed up as he fumbled for the words. 

“I know.” Aiden placed a hand on the blonde’s knee. Arthur sighed. 

“We got your back, little man.” John finally spoke, Aiden noticed their touching arms. 

Aiden smiled as he rested his other hand on John’s knee. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, finally getting around to write this chapter. Forgive me if I seem a bit wordy haha, I’m just a shit writer. So there is a bit where Charles kills a dude that gets pretty gross, watch out for that if you’re not down for violence. Also I think I wanted a bit more involvement from John, since he and Arthur go way further than Aiden. I think if some guy just shows up and claims the man you’ve loved your entire life you’re bound to react in some way. So maybe this will evolve into a poly relationship? Maybe just a greasy third wheel, could go either way really.
> 
> Any way, I hope you enjoy. Please leave a comment if you have any thoughts, or want something to happen down the line. It’s a huge motivation :))


	7. Arthur the Wizard of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shitshow of a heist continues. Arthur is a soft and protective cowboy.

“Wake up, someone’s here,” Charles whispered loudly. Arthur and Bill immediately snapped awake, hands feeling over the hay-covered floor for their weapons. The young man leaning against a wood post next to Arthur stirred and groaned from the commotion, quickly sobering from his nap.

Aiden reached over to the scarred man sleeping next to him and shook him awake: “Get up, John. The fun’s starting.”

John groaned in confusion, rubbing his eyes as he sat up, Aiden wondered how the older man survived so long, being a heavier sleeper than himself. “What are you so excited for?” He asked hoarsely.

“Dude, this is my first shootout. It’s gonna be awesome.” Aiden grinned like an idiot.

“There ain’t gon be a shootout, Aiden.” Arthur corrected, looking at Aiden like he was an idiot.

“Oh boy, just you wait. There’s _definitely_ gonna be a shootout.” the young man's grin widened, his chest puffing up.

“Jesus, somethin’ ain’t right with your head. You got a death wish, kid?” Arthur couldn’t decide if Aiden’s enthusiasm amused or worried him since he failed to shoot Downes just a few days ago. “Everyone stay quiet... Uncle! Get up you fool!” Interrupted by the loud snoring, Arthur kicked the old man half covered in hay. 

“What’s the matter?!” Uncle whined, jolting up.

“Shut up,” Charles grunted, always a sobering presence. “There’s a light, over by the house.” He continued just as three men rounded the corner of the rundown homestead, their swinging lanterns throwing a spectral, satin glow through the white mist.

“Wow, the graphics are _amazing,_ ” Aiden said unconsciously, before recoiling at the nonsensical statement.

“I got...I got nothing to rob, mister!” The poor homesteader cried in the distance.

“Alright, let’s keep this calm, see what happens.” Arthur motioned for everyone to hide, yanking Aiden with him, crowding behind the split planks of a small partition in the left side of the barn. Charles took a right, Bill and Uncle to the back. John rushed to a bale of hay in front.

Aiden opened his mouth to complain. “Shh!” Arthur held a finger to his lips sternly, trying to look through a gap in the partition. But Aiden continued to tug at Arthur’s jacket. “What is it?” Arthur whispered impatiently.

“Right guy’s gonna come inside, Charles is gonna shoot him. He drops his lantern and sets this barn on fire.” Arthur nodded in acknowledgment, the light pouring through the planks glittering in his eye.

“...Cooperforth, Lowe, go check out the barn.” The angry looking leader waved. The two men stalked toward the barn. Aiden pushed away Arthur’s tan jacket to peek at the incoming party, his heart racing.

“You sure it’s just these two?” Arthur whispered.

Aiden hesitated and shook his head silently. Things are beginning to change in unpredictable directions, that much is evident from the heist at noon. He’d be grateful if this goes down anywhere near how he remembered it.

“You head inside. I’ll go round the back.” Lowe said to Cooperforth.

“Sure.”

Aiden breathed through his mouth, his chest jolting at every crunch in the grass as Lowe circled toward the back of the barn, his shadow poking and prodding through the gaps in the flimsy wooden wall. Aiden’s breath hitched when the crunching abruptly stopped right next to him. The glow of the lantern shining through a hole on the wall darkened as Lowe pressed his face against it, inches away from Aiden’s nose. Aiden froze, not daring even to blink. His heart pumped wildly as the lack of oxygen compounded with the adrenaline coursing through his body. Aiden could feel Lowe’s gaze scanning the darkness. After what seemed like minutes, the dark spot lightened again and the crunching resumed.

Aiden blew out a shaky breath as he turned his attention to Arthur’s side. Cooperforth was already standing in the middle of the barn, half a step in front of the partitions. A glance to either side would expose Arthur or Charles; A turn would reveal John.

Charles shifted in the darkness, his gun-wielding hand wavered slightly from the tension. Arthur held up his palm, signaling Charles to wait. Looking through the peephole, he saw John kneeling on one knee as if he was about to take off in a sprint. His jaws clenched as his fist gripped and loosened. Arthur pointed at Cooperforth, then dragged his thumb across his neck. John nodded knowingly.

“Place looks empty to me,” Cooperforth announced loudly. Aiden slammed his hand against his mouth.

“Now, the old guy up there is full of crap.” the chubby henchman said, turning around to leave. John took off in a silent dash before Cooperforth could turn his head around, clasping a big hand against the henchman‘s mouth.

Cooperforth threw his arms wide in a panic as Arthur charged out of his cover, hunting knife in hand. The chubby man grunted and spasmed when Arthur thrust the blade into his throat. Aiden emerged from behind the partition with a leap just as Cooperforth released the oil lamp, his eyes rolling up as blood gushed out.

The oil lamp’s handle clapped against the glass with a sharp _clank_ as Aiden caught it inches away from the ground, eyes wide with disbelief. The three outlaws froze, listening to the silence from outside the barn. The hand resting on Arthur’s revolver twitched. After a long pause, the crunching resumed. John let out a relieved sigh as he slowly set Cooperforth’s body onto the floor.

“We gotta get the other one.” John mouthed, crouching next to the body. Arthur nodded, wiping a streak of blood from his face with a gloved hand and signaled for Aiden to return behind the partition as he and John turned toward the rear.

“Hey!” A voice shrieked, a third man was standing by the large opening to the right side of the barn. The three outlaws jolted and locked eyes with the man before he started scrambling for his revolver. _Of course there's a third guy._

Arthur lounged toward Aiden, hurling both back into the darkness as the first shot burst through the night air, kicking up a cloud of dirt where the two had stood half a second ago. Aiden gasped as the oil lamp left his hand, breaking free from the grip of time as it fell in freeze frames.

The lamp clattered and exploded into flames, droplets of burning oil splashing in all directions, catching the surrounding hay with incredible speed. John flinched and fell backward as the third man trained his gun at him, the closest target.

Charles swung out of his cover inches away from the third man and blasted him point blank. A sickening swarm of pellet wounds blossomed on the man’s chest as he stumbled backward, clawing at the grizzly hive of gaping holes before collapsing.

"Shit!" Lowe's panicked voice rang from the back right before a loud _Plunk_ silenced him. Bill had smashed him in the face with a rusty shovel. Never the merciful one, Bill quickly finished the job with the sharp end of the farm tool.

Aiden rolled his eyes as a cacophony of shouts echoed from the direction the scouts had come. _Great, and the barn still caught fire._

"Looks like we're shootin' our way out of here, fellers," Bill shouted over the crackling flames that had already climbed half-way up the roof. 

The men quickly took cover wherever they could as the incoming party fired the first shots. Arthur rushed to the front of the barn and took aim. Pops of light sparkled all around the barn as the men traded fire on three sides. Aiden scanned the darkness to the left flank for a target but the night was much darker than he remembered on screen. 

_How the hell do they see anything?_

The young man squinted when a shot whirred past him, tearing the wood into a million pieces, Aiden recoiled, his arms shielding his face. "Fuck!" Aiden aimed in the direction where he saw the muzzle flash and fired blindly. 

_Okay, okay, Breathe...just breathe, you can do this._

A man in a muddy trench coat appeared from behind a boulder and charged toward Aiden. His scarred face gleaming as he stepped into the light of the burning barn. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit," Aiden tried to cock his revolver with both his trembling hands, but the hammer decided not to budge. The brute raised his shotgun as he jumped into striking range.

 _Click_ , the hammer finally yielded, but it was too late. The henchman squeezed the trigger as soon as the barrel reached his face. Aiden squeezed his eyes shut; his shoulders curled in anticipation for the pain. 

Nothing happened. Aiden peeked timidly and saw only smoke coming out from the backside of the shotgun. _A dud_. The two men locked eyes for a split second, the henchman just as confused as the young outlaw. Snapping out of the stare-off, the brute tossed his shotgun and charged like a rhino. Aiden yelped, squeezing the trigger instinctively as the dirty man swiped at him. The next thing he saw, the attacker slumped over the short wall as if tripping over an invisible rock, a gaping hole widened with red on the backside of his trench.

Gasping for air, Aiden stepped back, bracing himself against his knees as he blinked with amazement. The panting soon turned into choked laughs. The newbie wiped his nose as he turned to his friends, "Did you see that, I just destroy- Oh shit!"

A skinny man latched onto Arthur, the wiry muscles on his forearms twisted as he tried to hold down Arthur's gun arm. But the blonde man quickly wrenched free and socked him in the face, his other hand gripping the triggerman's suspender to prevent escape. The rat-like man yelled out in pain, left arm reaching back for a weapon. The skinny man's shoulder exploded just as the sinewy arm reappeared with a throwing blade. Arthur snapped around to find Aiden's gun raised, a wisp of smoke scattering in the breeze. He quickly drew his Volcanic and put a second round into the screaming man, permanently silencing him. By the time the skinny man's body hit the ground, Aiden was already by Arthur's side.

"Jesus Christ, you could've blown my head off, kid!" Arthur yelled over the gunfire as he shoved Aiden to the ground, out of the line of fire.

"Hey! I shot him didn't I!" Aiden said as he clambered to get back up. But Arthur simply tossed his Lancaster onto the younger man's lap, who instinctively grabbed it. "Ow!" He gasped as he jerked his hand away from the piping hot barrel. Arthur pressed him back down onto the floor with one arm while he fired with the other. "Make yourself useful. Gun’s empty." Arthur barked, shedding his bandolier and dropping it next to his lover.

"But-"

A slug rended a blown-out lantern hanging on a wood post and sent a blizzard of fine shards flying, Arthur ducked down, pulling Aiden against his chest to shield him from the debris. He tossed the young man on the ground once more and rejoined the fight without a hitch.

"Just do as I say!" Arthur yelled again. Aiden huffed at the ploy to keep him out of the action before scrambling for the bandolier, clumsily shoving the rounds into the silver chamber.

Outside the barn, more men charged at the trapped Van Der Lindes. A bald man with a missing front tooth emerged from the pack as he fired into the burning barn aimlessly. By now, the fire has swallowed half the roof.

"We gotta get out of here!" Charles shouted from the right, huddling under a pile of logs as bullet's ravaged the feeble walls nearby.

"I know!" Arthur replied as he shot the bald man, but another quickly replaced his fallen comrade as the vanguard. Arthur trained in on the second runner, the Volcanic pistol in his hand clicked loudly. _Empty_. Arthur shoved it back into its holster, his left arm extending toward the young man sitting on the ground. "gimme the gun!" He motioned with his fingers. "It ain't ready yet!" Aiden shouted back, spilling a hand full of rounds as his hands shook. The incoming triggerman now thirty feet away, a stick of lit dynamite in his hand.

"I said give me the gun! _Now!_ " Arthur's eyes widened at the sight of the red stick. Aiden exclaimed unintelligibly as he pushed in the final round, Pulling the lever. "Ready!" He tossed the gun toward Arthur just as the runner's arm curled, his feet digging into the dirt as he slid to a stop, a small tsunami of earth stormed forward. His wrist bent back against the momentum of the toss.

John turned and snapped him clean through the neck.

Too late.

The dynamite departed the man's fingers as he fell. The shooting halted, and all eyes rose to meet the tumbling bomb as it sailed through the air. The only sight in the world was the black writing against the dull red, smeared by sweaty palms. The excited buzzing of the fuse the only sound as the stick rotated.

Arthur's steel blue eyes shimmered as flecks of candescent orange swam through their stormy skies. The stick spun slower, slower still, and finally paused; Temporarily trapped in the coagulated air. John and Aiden had such similar eyes, he thought with amusement. He couldn't help but give one more glimpse of their matching stares of horror beaming toward the dynamite; their long black hair suspended mid-swing. Arthur returned his attention to the stick, raising his rifle. 

_One dot, two dots, three dots, lined up._

His forefinger gave the command, and the Lancaster obediently flashed its fiery forked-tongue.

A rabid ball of compressed air ripped through the jellied space, setting time back on it's tracks; knocking everyone on their backs, even the raging fire hesitated. The incoming mercenaries groaned as they sprawled across the grass. Shaking his head to rid of the ringing, Arthur yelled: " _Now!_ " He pulled a dazed Aiden and shoved him toward the back of the barn, followed by John before rushing there himself. He grabbed Charles by the arm as he passed him, signaling toward the back, the man nodded before throwing his weight against a frail plank, smashing it. The men piled through the opening and dashed toward the moonlit forest.

"Bill, time to go!" He yanked at the burly man still popping shots as pieces of burning barn rained down around him, waiting for him to squeeze past the hole before exiting himself.

The group ran until their lungs burned. They huddled behind a boulder and listened for pursuers. Their faces caked with soot and dirt as they panted quietly. Faint shouts wafted from a distance, and soon the torchlight faded into the darkness. The group waited a few moments more before deciding it was safe.

"You know the drill, split up and don't get followed," Arthur said as he divided the stack of bills he somehow managed to hold onto through the frenzy. He glared at Uncle as his fat-fingered hand extended forward for his share, withdrawing the stack dramatically before reluctantly giving Uncle the bills. "We're gonna have a nice chat about this later," Arthur grumbled, his eyes narrow. _Useless idiot._

Arthur turned to Aiden after the group dispersed, turning him around roughly as he looked him over, "You okay? Hurt anywhere?" He asked in his gruff voice. "I'm fine," Aiden complained halfheartedly, a faint smile on his face as he let the older man turn him this way and that to look for damage. Finally satisfied with his inspection, Arthur turned Aiden around and held him by the shoulders, leveling his blue eyes with Aiden's brown ones. "That was real foolish of you, kid." His rumbling voice carried a tenderness reserved only for when they are alone. "You almost got shot back there, if you were to get hurt or...somethin', I’ll never be able to forgive myself. Just, promise me you'll be smarter next time, okay?" Arthur sighed, sounding exhausted, his head lowering toward his chest.

Words of protest rushed up Aiden's throat, but the defeated look on Arthur's face shoved them right back down. "Hey, we did alright, didn't we?" He placed a hand on the blonde's cheek, rubbing the soot-covered skin with his thumb. "Have some faith in me, big guy, okay? I want to protect you just as much as you want to protect me." Aiden held the sad blue eyes tenderly.

"I just...every person I ever..." The blonde man clenched his jaws, struggling to vocalize. 

"I know." Aiden cooed. 

Arthur inhaled deeply and squeezed Aiden's shoulders. "I 'spose you're right. I guess I'm just bein' a naggin' old fool."

Aiden closed the last bit of distance and leaned closer to Arthur's face, close enough to smell the remnants of the fire and blood. He nuzzled his nose against Arthur's, kissing him with his brown eyes before pressing their lips together.

"Mm," Arthur rumbled through his nose as he leaned into the kiss. Aiden groaned quietly as a large hand combed through his hair while another held him at the waist. "I... I love you so much, darlin'. You make all this shit feel worth it. You know that?"

"Ahem," A voice announced. Aiden and Arthur jumped apart.

"Really, Marston? _Again?_ How long have you even been standin' there?" Arthur growled, eyeing the rugged man and the path where Charles, Bill, and Uncle had left, distinctly remembering John amongst them.

Aiden observed with amusement, noting John's tendency to materialize when they shared intimate moments. More interesting is the fact that Arthur doesn't seem too bothered that John _knows_ , unlike the secrecy when it comes to being around the rest of the gang.

"What are you talkin' about? I've been here the whole time. Just didn't wanna break up your misty-eyed moment is all. Never knew you could get so gooey, Morgan." John said, feigning disgust. The canopy of leaves blotted out most of the pale moonlight, but Aiden swore Arthur blushed. 

"You alright there, little man?" John turned his attention to Aiden, leaving Arthur to stew. The younger man nodded his greeting, releasing a snort at Arthur's embarrassment.

"Little shit," Arthur glared at Aiden.

"Well, I'm parched, what do you fellers say we go get some drinks?" John said. 

"Fuck yeah!"

"Fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to reupload due to some missing paragraphs. Leave a comment if you like this!


	8. An Unbreakable Mustang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mighty trio heads to town for drinks. Two of them gets down to business.

The mayor of Strawberry fell off his horse and broke his neck on the trail. 

It was the type of hapless accident that political folk are particularly prone to when they exercise their God-given right to dictate the morals of proud working people. The folks of the former logging town mourned by tossing his body in a shallow grave behind the butcher's, the black velvet top hat he once donned now propped on top of a crude wooden cross. 

The angular carving on the wood read: 

_Nicholas Timmins, Mayor of American morals._

The very next day the first saloon in Strawberry opened with pomp and circumstance where Mr. Timmins' beloved welcome center once stood.

Tables of drunken patrons roared their laughter as fiddles and pianos played. A woman's shrill laughter melded with the song as she twirled, her dress blossoming into a white and red streaked petunia. The red-faced gentleman slid his hand lower down her back as they spun. The beer in his mug spilling out with abandon, staining his extravagant purple tailcoat as he dug his face into the freckled lady's open bossom. 

Arthur, John and Aiden sat at a small round table by the hearth, beneath the mounted stag. Empty shot glasses and beer mugs cluttered the varnished surface. 

Arthur slapped Aiden's shoulder and shoved another shot into his hand, the two clinked their glasses together before downing the brown liquid. Aiden stuck his tongue out as he tried to shake away the fire in his throat. 

"You guys call this shit whiskey? It's worse than drinking kerosene." Aiden plopped his forehead on the table to still the spinning room. John and Arthur both burst out in red-faced laughter toward the younger man.

"The first thing about bein' an outlaw is you gotta learn to drink like one." John said between breaths. "Come on, little man. Another one!" John pulled Aiden from the table and set him against the chair back, wrapping the newbie's fingers around a large mug of beer he had conjured out of thin air.

Arthur barked in laughter and grabbed Aiden by the back of his neck, pressing their foreheads together to meet Aiden's unfocused eyes. 

"That's right princess; you gotta be able to hold your liquor if you wanna ride with us." Arthur egged on, slurring his words. He kissed Aiden's nose, not caring who was watching; the warm haze made him brave in ways he wishes he could be all the time.

"Here's to good ol' Mayor Timmins!" Someone shouted in the crowd. The patrons wooed and banged on their tables. Arthur, John and Aiden joined in, smashing their mugs together, clapping it hard against the small table and chugged. John let out an obscene burp as he slammed the cup down, missing by a good few inches. The miniature barrel rolled into the crowd of tapping feet and vanished. Arthur finished second, he set his mug down overcautiously as if it was made of wet sand.

"Come on Aiden!" John said to the long-haired man who was still drinking, streams of golden liquid running down his chin. Aiden set the mug down gasping for air. 

"No no no no," Arthur scolded as he picked up Aiden's half-finished mug and pushed it back into his hands. "You gotta respect the rules, says a man's always gotta finish his drink. Now I don't make the rules, that's jus' the way it is. Ain't that right, Marston?" He pushed the mug closer to Aiden's mouth.

"But-" Aiden groaned.

"No buts, drink." Arthur said, shaking his finger.

Aiden pouted and raised his shaky hands, starting with a sip before speeding up. After an eternity, the mug was finally empty. Aiden tossed it backward and belched, his face a picture of pure agony.

Arthur and John cheered, pounding the table with their fists.

"That's my boy..." Arthur's rumbled proudly as he pulled Aiden in for a kiss. Someone saw.

"I'm done. One more drink and I'll drop dead. I swear." Aiden slurred as he got up, trying to walk away. He tripped on his left foot and sent glasses sprawling across the table. Arthur caught him by the arm as the two older men laughed. "Yeah, I reckon you're about finished." He said as he swept Aiden off his feet and began walking upstairs.

"You comin', Marston?" He turned around, amused by John's surprised expression. 

"What?" John asked blankly. 

In his drunkenness, John had forgotten that there was only one room available and that they would all have to share. A rush of heat swelled on his cheeks, perfectly camouflaging with his alcohol-induced flush. 

"Oh, yeah, sure." He said as he climbed from his chair, swaying until the saloon stopped jumping and followed behind.

Arthur and John were no strangers to bunking together. Hell, they had to share tents most of their youths, sleeping shoulder to shoulder. A whole hotel room just to themselves was a rare luxury. 

_Except now it's not just us._

Arthur looked down at the young man in his arms babbling quietly to himself.

"I'll just sleep here," John mumbled as he plopped down on the plush chair in the corner. Arthur grunted his gratitude and walked toward the bed, pausing as he set down Aiden. He smirked.

"What do you say we go take a bath, hm?" Arthur whispered in Aiden's ear.

"Hmm...I'd like that." Aiden replied dreamily. 

Arthur's smirk widened.

* * *

Arthur took his sweet time undressing his lover, unwrapping his gift button by button and relishing in how pliant Aiden was under his touch. 

"I can do it myself," Aiden slurred with his back against the wooden tub, making no effort to resist.

"I know, I just like gettin' you naked," Arthur answered, his low rumbling sent shivers up and down Aiden's back despite the thick steam permeating the small room.

Aiden smiled hazily and swatted Arthur's wandering hands. He pulled himself into the tub, throwing water all over the tile floor. 

"Ah..." The young man sighed in contentment as the warmth enveloped him. Out of all the modern comforts he was accustomed to, hot showers were what he missed the most. Not soft beds, not hot food, not even the internet. Hot showers. To not feel sticky and gross and covered in grime. He missed the feeling of jets of hot water kneading the tension from his shoulders and back after a long day behind a desk. In this time, showers haven't been invented yet, so the occasional baths were the next best thing. 

_Fuck the creek._

Arthur's muscular thigh derailed Aiden's train of thought as it entered the water.

"Scoot." The older man tilted his head.

"Huh?" Aiden sounded distant and confused. His dilated pupils wandered up Arthur's leg, up the powerful muscles forged from years of riding and running. Watching it bulge and loosen hypnotically as Arthur moved. His head fell against Arthur's thigh like a rock. Before he knew it, he was taking a deep sniff, taking in his lover's musky scent as he nuzzled through a fine smattering of fur. The tip of his tongue snaked out on its own accord and licked a wet trail upward before his lips followed, leaving sloppy kisses over the firm flesh before he lifted his starry eyes to meet Arthur's.

Arthur stood with one leg inside the tub, looking down at his drunken lover. His eagle-like vision was focusing on every tiny detail. The way threads of saliva clung from his thigh to Aiden’s lolled tongue as he pulled away. His chest rising and falling as his unfocused brown eyes dialated. The flush on his cheek deepened from both drunkenness and desire.

“You sir, are wasted.” Arthur chuckled as he stepped into the hot bath behind Aiden, who whined at the loss of touch. But Arthur quickly remedied it by pulling him against his chest, his hands skipping all pretense of washing. 

Aiden tensed as big fingers closed around his left nipple; his head pressed back forcefully against Arthur's furry chest. Under the water, hec was already throbbing and leaking with need.

“Wha’s wrong, sweetheart?” Arthur whispered, purposefully breathing into Aiden’s ear. 

Aiden groaned, his words stuck in his throat. His cheeks reddened further from embarrassment.

“Come on sweetheart. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what you want.” Arthur said as he leisurely licked inside Aiden’s ear with the tip of his tongue. 

“I...want...I want you to...” Aiden was practically panting. 

“Want me to what, hm?” The blonde reached down and brushed his fingers along the writhing young man’s inner thigh.

“Touch me,”

“Where?” Arthur was determined to wrench out every single detail. 

“My...cock,” Aiden whispered, he rolled his hips in the direction of Arthur’s teasing hand. The older man dodged away.

“What, you want me to touch your cock, is that it? How?” He ran his big fingers from the base of Aiden’s shaft all the way up to the tip. The young man bucked. “Tell me how you want me to touch your cock.” Arthur nipped at an earlobe.

“Play...ah,” Aiden stuttered, “play with the head,” He was now red as a tomato from having to elaborate. Arthur’s own erection twitched with exhilaration.

“Like this?” Arthur growled as he wriggled his thumb past Aiden’s foreskin, stretching it out as he rubbed slow circles around the tip of his extremely sensitive glans. The young man twitched and sighed. “Now what?”

Aiden wanted to smash his head against the wall from the shame.

“I...god, can you just,” Tears streamed down his face from frustration. The alcohol coursing through his veins heightened every sensation, the fingers on his nipple pinching and releasing, the slow rubbing inside his foreskin, the warm mouth licking and kissing his ears. 

In the month and a half since they first kissed, Arthur has gotten to learn every single erogenous zone on Aiden’s body. Every single way to lick, prod and rub to make him laugh or cry or beg or shake.

“Shhh,” Arthur soothed, brushing away the tears with his thumb. He relented slightly and pulled back Aiden’s foreskin, moving his thumb from the tip to rub at the frenulum. 

A thousand volts jolted Aiden’s body as he thrashed, sending water flying over the rim. The older man simply grasped the base of his left thigh to keep him still. No matter how Aiden strained, the hand holding him down didn’t budge the slightest. "You like that, boy?" 

Aiden bit his lips, not daring to answer.

“Come on boy, don’t fight it.” Arthur provoked further as he continued to attack Aiden’s most sensitive spot. “It’ll feel so good if you’d just give in.” 

“Yes, that’s a good boy,” The older man cooed, tightening his legs around Aiden’s to restrain him further. The younger man knew he was no match for Arthur’s raw strength and forced his own body to relax, however futile the effort.

The rubbing against the underside of his glans promptly stopped when Arthur felt Aiden’s body become more pliant. He rewarded his lover’s submission by wrapping a big calloused hand around Aiden’s shaft and began stroking, making sure the skin thoroughly covers the tip before pulling it back down. 

Aiden panted as he threw his head back into the crook of Arthur’s neck. The sensation was overbearing. More tears welled up in his eyes — tears of relief. 

The rugged outlaw expertly worked Aiden’s heat, speeding up and slowing down in time with his breathing. Aiden's panting grew heavier, his thrashing renewed as he neared oblivion. 

Arthur grinned at what was bound to happen. _My favorite part._ He hand sped up and the young man in his embrace began to tense up, a monstrous orgasm breaking loose.

Suddenly, there was nothing. 

No stroking, no pinching, no licking and kissing.

“No!” Aiden practically sobbed at the denial. His mind on the brink of breaking.

“Beg me, princess.”

“No...” Aiden refused weakly, his resolve crumbling as the words dripped out of his mouth. 

"We've been through this before, sweetheart."

Breaking him over and over again exhilarated Arthur more than anything in the world. To watch his willful lover slowly but inevitably submit to his will in the most erotic and intimate way possible made him surge with pride in ways he never thought possible.

“Just give in, give in to the pleasure.” Arthur breathed, giving another few tugs to keep Aiden right on the teetering edge. “Come on baby boy, beg me to make you cum.”

Aiden shook his head weakly.

Arthur smirked, the futile resistance only strengthened his need to tame Aiden. "Alright, have it your way."

his hand returned to his glans as he began rubbing his frenulum again. Aiden yelped, his chest seized. Arthur quickly crossed his feet on top of Aiden's tightly. The young man moaned and wept and screamed from the overstimulation.

"Come on little lamb, it ain't gotta be this way." Arthur coaxed, "Wouldn't it be so much easier if you'd just give in?" He lightened the swirling on Aiden's glans. The feathery touches only making things worse for him. 

"I can keep going for hours you know? You think you'd last a few hours, hm?"

Aiden broke.

“Please! Please let me cum!” He cried out, his mind and body finally gave in completely. 

“Yes....Good boy, good boy.” Arthur immediately rewarded him. His hand sliding up and down his shaft in a flurry. Aiden let out a choked sound. His faded orgasm rapidly rising to the surface once more.

“Almost there, sweetheart. You're doin' so good." Arthur breathed.

"I'm gonna....I'm gonna cum!"

“Cum for me.”

Aiden’s mouth froze open in a silent scream as his orgasm took him. His lean body convulsed violently against Arthur’s hold as he pumped out spurt after gut-wrenching spurt of pure pleasure. Arthur tightened his arms, making sure that his lover couldn’t move an inch, which only heightened the mind-rending climax. After an eternity, the throbbing finally began to subside. Aiden continued to attempt to roll his hips as Arthur coaxed out every single drop of pleasure from his body.

“That’s my boy, so good for me,” Arthur praised as he released Aiden, drawing slow circles around the young man’s chest. 

“I hate you,” Aiden mumbled limply, his chest heaving.

“That’s not what your cock is saying.” Arthur chuckled.

Aiden huffed as he turned in the water. His hand was reaching down to grasp the older man’s raging erection. But Arthur gently pried his fingers away.

“Why don’t you ever let me get you off?” Aiden asked with a weak frown.

“Makin’ you come apart is all the pleasure I need, sweetheart,” Arthur said, silencing Aiden with a kiss.

The younger man wanted to argue, but Arthur simply pressed his head against his chest. And as if he just flicked a switch, the young man fell into a deep and dreamless slumber.

* * *

The music played on deep into the night. A few loggers snoozed with their faces buried in their arms, an overturned mug dripped steadily onto the floor. The dancing petunia twirled her partner's hair with the the red tips of her nails in the corner. The piano man had disappeared while the old man with a fiddle played on joyously by himself, his face glowed red and the music jittered along his fingers.

A man with a pock-marked face and worn green silk vest balanced his chair on two feet, his seat back against the wood wall. He scanned the room with the languidness of a well-fed predator. He had broken a few noses that night, plus a wrist or two keeping the peace. He grunted and got up when the desk clerk motioned for him.

"What do you want?" He asked, scratching the horseshoe shaped burn scar on his left cheek. His voice was raucous and ugly.

"Got something the boss might be interested." The desk clerk answered casually, unintimidated by the branded man. His waxed mustache split right down the cleft of his lip, hair combed over and pomaded. He slid a neatly folded piece of parchment across the counter.

The man with the green vest grunted and unfolded the note, his eyebrow lifted as he scanned the contents.

_V.D.Ls in S.B. saloon, Room 3._

Horseshoe crumpled the note and shoved it into a pocket and walked out into the night.

The desk clerk watched as the man left the saloon, smoothing his black vest and adjusted his _green_ bow tie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the smut train lol, was trying to bust a nut and ended up writing my next chapter. This is my first time writing smut and hopefully I’m not making myself look dumb lolololol. I wanted to start exploring the sexual side of the couple’s relationship. I think there’d be interesting things going on with both of them.  
> Drop a comment if you liked this chapter, it really helps me write faster!


	9. What’s That? Some Kind of Scam?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last night was about power and this morning is about catharsis. But that doesn’t mean Aiden can’t give Arthur a taste of his own medicine.

The paint-chipped green wall blurred in and out of focus as Aiden rubbed his eyes, turning around to avoid the sunlight filtering through the worn white satin. He let his eyes drift shut once more as he nuzzled the pillow next to him, taking in the comforting scent of whiskey and pine. 

Only one man in the world smelled so good, so warm. 

"Arthur?" Aiden groaned groggily; his eyes still closed as he patted around the warm vacancy.

"Good-mornin', sweetheart." The low gravely voice kissed him from across the room.

"What are you doing over there?" Aiden said as he propped himself up on one elbow, his long black hair draping over his bare shoulder and spilling onto the pillow. 

He took in the sight of the barechested man leaning against the door with his feet crossed. Arthur's brown trousers were unbuttoned, the waist loosely caressing the V-shaped grooves that framed his abdomen. He was holding his journal, his blue-green eyes darting between the pages and Aiden as his pencil moved.

"Whatcha doing?" Aiden asked, already knowing the answer.

"Nothin'," Arthur answered without looking away. "Keep still."

"Are you drawing me like one of your French girls?" Aiden wiggled his eyebrows, putting his other hand on his head, mimicking a Greek statue.

Arthur shook his head. His eyebrows scrunched smilingly. His side-parted blonde hair fell perfectly in place; sunlight spun into pure gold.

"You think he's dead?" Aiden thumbed at John, still sprawled over his chair with his hat on his face, his muffled snores making the brim vibrate.

"Huh?" Arthur followed his gaze, "Marston can sleep through a goddamn calvary charge. Come to think of it, he has." The man chuckled, returning his attention to the diary.

Aiden raised an eyebrow, wondering if he should play some prank on the sleeping man.

The two remained silent while Arthur concentrated on his work. Aiden began to wonder if he should stick to his silly pose when the man snapped the leather journal shut and began to saunter over to the bed. Arthur crawled on and kissed Aiden's cheek, then his nose, then his lips. The outlaw's deltoids flexed beautifully as he shifted while the younger man simply basked in the affection with his eyes closed.

"So what are we doing today?" Aiden asked as he halfheartedly dodged another smooch.

"I'll leave that up to you." Arthur left one more kiss on Aiden's forehead as he got up to put on his shirt. The young man watched as he buttoned up in front of the mirror.

Arthur habitually avoided looking at himself, a sigh slipping from him before he could stop it. "Ugly son of a bitch." 

"Hey!" The young man frowned. "What did I say about shit talking yourself?" Aiden sprung out of the bed and walked behind Arthur. The older man lifted his arms to let Aiden wrap his around his waist.

"You're beautiful, okay? Stop saying that you're not." Aiden murmured as he rested his chin on Arthur's shoulder, looking at their reflection in the mirror.

"Nah." Arthur deflected, lowering his head.

"No look, I'll show you." Aiden raised Arthur's chin so he could see himself. "Do you not see those beautiful eyes? They remind me of the waters in Hawaii. The bluest, clearest water I've ever seen. Every time I look at you, it feels like the ocean is in your eyes." 

The young man planted a gentle kiss on Arthur's jawline and continued, "And those flecks of green are beautiful too, they're like the rolling mountains covered with trees; the hazel right there, those are the branches and the sand. You have all of paradise right there in your eyes, Arthur."

The outlaw smiled, a warmth tingled in his chest, spreading inside his body; up his face as a shade of sunset glow and out his eye as a drop of cut diamond.

"Shit," Arthur grumbled, reaching to wipe away the stray tear. 

Aiden caught his wrist and slowly set it back, planting kisses along his neck. "It's okay. It's okay to show how you feel, Arthur. It's why I love you. I love you _so much_.

"I love you too, sweetheart. I-" Arthur clenched his jaw shut, his teeth grinding. He fell silent, and Aiden let him. They stood for a long while.

"So this Hawaii, what's it like?" Arthur asked.

"It's beautiful and warm. It's got beaches and forests and mountains and flowers. You'd love it." Aiden watched the fantasy disguised as contemplation on Arthur's face as he studied his own eyes. 

"It's got fields of white poppies. The kind you keep next to your bed. the kind your mother liked." He whispered. Arthur's lips parted in surprise.

"I know." Aiden smiled.

Arthur swallowed, "So is it like Tahiti?"

"I don't know, I've never been there."

"Me neither, Dutch always said we'd go there someday an' be mango farmers." He chuckled quietly.

Silence washed over the room, save for John's quiet snoring. Arthur stroked the hand clasped around his waist as he pondered.

"So, in this game you told me about, did we, um, ever make it out to Tahiti?" 

Aiden thought for a moment.

"No."

More silence.

"Why don't you ever let me return the favor when you get me off?" Aiden suddenly asked. Arthur blinked his surprise.

"Told you, watchin' you is more fun," Arthur said.

"I call bullshit," Aiden laughed. "Tell the truth."

The outlaw sighed, "I don't know, I guess, I just never been with another feller before, you know?"

"Hm, okay. Well, it's not _that_ different from being with a woman." 

Arthur blushed, "I don't know...I haven't been with a lot of women either."

"Bull. Shit." Aiden's smile grew wider as he watched the fearless outlaw squirm under his interrogation. "You better tell the truth, Mr. Morgan. How many people has the famous Arthur Morgan graced in bed?"

Arthur chewed the inside of his mouth. 

"Come on cowboy, spit it out. I'm from the future, I know almost _everything._ " Aiden pushed.

"I've only slept with one woman," Arthur said, his voice quiet as a mouse.

"Get the fuck out! You really think I'd believe you've only speared one-" Aiden guffawed, ready to tease the lying cowboy. 

It suddenly hit him.

"Oh." _Oh._

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up-"

"S'alright. It was a long time ago." Arthur said, his eyes downcast.

Aiden bit his lip as he felt the thin ice crackle under his feet.

"Is that why you won't have sex with me? Because of what happened?" Aiden finally asked quietly.

"I don't know, sweetheart." The man refused to meet Aiden's flinching gaze. "I don't- You don't want this. I'm a cursed man, Aiden. I've got so much blood on my hands- S'why everyone I ever loved winds up dead or leavin'. I don't even know what I'm talkin' about...fool." His voice grew quieter as he spoke.

Aiden stood silent for a moment with his arms around Arthur's waist, his eyes downcast in thought. "You think by sleeping with me you'll pass on this curse; And I'll end up dying or leaving you."

Arthur snuck a glance at Aiden before flinching away once more, making no reaction to the comment. _I guess._

"I'm not the past, Arthur. Mary and Eliza never killed anyone. I have. They've never held up a coach or robbed a bank. I have. We have." Taking the silence as a sign to continue, Aiden reached up and stroked Arthur's hair, kissing his ear. 

"If that makes us bad men, then that's the way it's gotta be. I'll never leave you to marry some fancy top-hat-wearing motherfucker. I love you. Let me show you-" Aiden whispered between kisses. "-how much you deserve to be loved."

Arthur hummed, "I don't know...I-" His breath caught in his chest when Aiden snaked a hand into his half-buttoned shirt, brushing against a nipple.

"Please." Aiden's kisses became sloppier as he nuzzled against Arthur's neck, his fingers gently pinching and rubbing on the sensitive nub. The older man grunted, his jaw clenching shut. "Let me get you off,"

Not waiting for the silence to decipher itself, Aiden released the stiff man and guided him toward the bed.

"Lie down." He gently pushed Arthur onto the bed before hauling his legs up. The older man scooted in compliantly. His eyes fixed on Aiden as his Adam's apple bobbed. The slender newbie climbed up himself and straddled Arthur, setting his weight on the man's thighs. His hands went to work by unbuttoning the half-done shirt as he leaned to meet Arthur's lips.

Arthur cleared his throat, lifting his head to check on the sprawling man behind them. "But John-"

"Isn't gonna wake up, you said so yourself - Unless you plan on being louder than a cavalry charge. You're not gonna scream, are you?" Aiden smirked as he pulled apart the impeding shirt to expose Arthur's toned body.

"No, course not..." Arthur turned away, unwittingly baring his neck. Aiden seized the opening and licked a wet trail along Arthur's pulse, feeling it quicken as a breathy moan escaped the man's full lips.

"You sure about this?" Arthur moaned again when a hand closed around his surprisingly sensitive nipple. 

"Yes. Just relax, let me take care of you for once." 

Arthur's mind was already swimming. Aiden had essentially bushwhacked him with this unexpected role reversal. Arthur hadn't even considered the possibility of being touched like this; being on the bottom. He never thought he'd love being powerless so much.

Aiden reveled in his genius. He knew more than just the contents of a video game. He was armed with the modern miracle that is frequent casual sex.

The young man left wet kisses across Arthur's powerful chest before taking the nub in his mouth, teasing and rolling it with the tip of his tongue. His other hand pinched the free nipple, pleasuring both sides at once, completing the circuit. The stoic outlaw jolted, his body arching up as he tried to escape the electrifying sensations shooting straight to his cock, blotting out any coherent thought. 

His hands snapped to Aiden's waist but couldn't find the strength to push him away; the sounds rumbling in his dry throat were garbled and pathetic. The young man detached his lips from Arthur's over-stimulated nipple to allow the man a moment's reprieve. His hand snaked down into his unbuttoned trousers and grasped the outlaws curved, leaking member and pulled it free. His cock sprung against his taut belly with a splat, drops of viscous precum pooled in the grooves of his tense abdomen. 

Not bothering to remove the rest of the brown trousers, the wicked young man began grinding against Arthur's exposed member. The muscular thighs beneath him shuddered as he bucked against Aiden's own growing hardness for more stimulation.

"Goddamn, you so beautiful. So fuckin handsome." Aiden murmured as he lifted Arthur's thick, meaty arm and set it behind his head, feeling the man's fingers instinctively dig into his own hair as he endured the stimulation.

"Look at your chest, so powerful, so sexy," Aiden said as he licked along the muscles connecting Arthur's bulging pectoral to his arm, taking in the musky scent.

"Ah-" Arthur shuddered, momentarily distracted from the delicious friction below. Without breaking contact, the attacking young man dragged his tongue into Arthur's armpit, stimulating the never-before-touched erogenous zone with the flat of his tongue as he licked with long, slow drags; gradually lifting away until only the tip of his pink tongue traced against Arthur's spasming tricep. 

"Fuck, you taste so good baby," Aiden breathed heavily, the heady flavor of Arthur's armpit still on his tongue. The older man could only muster a pitiful whine in reply. The young man smiled hazily and returned to the flexing arm, kissing and licking the bulging bicep fervently, savoring the fact that _he_ was the one making the fearsome outlaw shudder and whine.

Sensing that Arthur was now sufficiently pliant, Aiden kissed along the grove on the man's straining abs, resting his chin on the tensing flesh, less than an inch away from Arthur's pulsing, drooling erection.

Arthur lifted his head to see; his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes glassy with lust and confusion. He wanted to ask why Aiden had stopped, but his brain refused to form words. A breathy whimper was all he could manage.

“Can you say it for me, cowboy? Hm? Say it out loud what you want.” Aiden cooed. 

"What?" Arthur swallowed nervously, casting one more glance at the sleeping John.

“Focus on me,” Aiden whispered, rolling Arthur’s nipple to pull him back.

“...I, ah, do I really gotta say it?” Arthur was adorable in his current shade of red, his chest heaving, nipples glistening with saliva.

“Yes. You can do it, big boy.”

“I...ah, I want you to get me off.” He mustered between moans.

“Good job sweetheart. You did so well. I’m so proud. You can always tell me what you want, okay?” Aiden praised, planting soft kisses along Arthur’s jaw, who nodded briskly.

The young outlaw quickly kissed a trail along Arthur's sweaty torso, stopping with his nose against the pulsing cord underneath his cock.

"Wha-" Arthur lifted his head momentarily before his neck gave out, falling back onto the pillow. "...What are you doin'?

Aiden scrunched his eyebrows. 

_That's right._ Oral sex was extremely taboo in this time.

"You ever had a blowjob, cowboy?" 

"Wha-" Arthur was visibly thrown off by the question. "What's that...a scam or somethin’ ?" His foggy mind couldn't comprehend why Aiden would choose to talk about business _now_.

"Not quite, would you like to learn what a blowjob is then?" Aiden was practically grinning from ear to ear.

Arthur was on the brink of tears from the unwanted conversation, "Wha-no, can we just - AH..." He let out a wanton cry as Aiden suddenly sucked his lips onto the underside of his glans, tickling the frenulum with his tongue, his eyes blown wide.

_This is a blowjob, cowboy._

Dispensing of the teasing, Aiden took the entire cockhead into his mouth. He wanted Arthur to experience uninterrupted pleasure for his first time getting sucked. The older man convulsed as Aiden began to bob his head slowly, not moving further than just the leaking head. His hips bucked up shallowly with a mind of its own- his body's way to beg for more. Aiden obliged, sucking in his cheeks as he took more of the thick twitching cock down his throat effortlessly, ensuring that his velvety tongue was glued to the muscular cord that pulsed in time with Arthur's heart.

Arthur's eyes rolled up as his consciousness came and went in waves. His powerful back arched up as far as possible. The very last shred of his will was entirely dedicated to preventing himself from grasping Aiden's head and thrusting his entire shaft down his throat. His thick, meaty thighs quivered and twitched as Aiden began to twist his head, making his sensitive glans rub against his wet throat from all angles. His big feet curled and dug into the mattress.

Finally arriving at the base of the man's curved 9-inch cock, Aiden took a moment to get used to the incredibly thick shaft that challenged even his experienced mouth. Gradually, he began to lift away. His wet mouth wrapped tightly around Arthur's heat as he backed up until only the head was inside, pausing for a few agonizing breaths before lowering again. The flat of his tongue always rubbing against the shaft as he moved.

Arthur orgasmed.

Aiden's eyes widen in surprise as the thick member in his mouth began pulsing violently. The first powerful spurt shot straight down his throat before he could react. He sped up his bobbing to work Arthur through his premature climax.

Arthur screamed, his voice breaking. His abdomen convulsed forcefully as it forced him to bend upward. His left hand grasped at Aiden's arm with bruising strength as his right clawed at the sheets. Arthur's legs kicked wildly as Aiden suckled on the purple-red glans, his hands wrapped around the shaft, twisting and stroking as the mind-rending orgasm raged on. Spurt after spurt of thick foamy seed shot out of his pulsing cock and into Aiden's waiting mouth. His eyes rolled back as his mouth hung open in a silent scream, drool dripping from the edge of his lips. 

Gradually, the bucking slowed. Arthur's thighs twitched spastically as the orgasm receded, leaving his mind utterly blank, his glassy blue eyes half-lidded. Aiden crawled up, his mouth filled. Arthur's blue eyes slowly focused on the young man. Aiden wanted Arthur to see him swallow.

Arthur finally found the strength to sit up, catching Aiden as he was thrown off his lap and pulled him close.

"That was..." Arthur panted, unknowing of any word that could describe what just happened.

Aiden grinned. "See, _that's_ how much I love you."

Arthur laughed weakly, complex thoughts still an impossibility. He allowed his head to droop against his lovers as he caught his breath.

"Thank you..." He whispered.

Aiden smiled warmly as he stroked Arthur's hair, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Hm," Arthur rested his head on the young man's shoulder, basking in the afterglow of his pleasure. Aiden pushed him back onto the bed as he went to get a towel. 

He froze.

John was watching them, his honey brown eyes dark and hungry. A hand gripped the bulge in his pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut train chugs on tirelessly. Here is Aiden teaching Arthur what a blowjob is. 
> 
> To be honest, I’m not sure I’m entirely happy with this one. So I might rewrite it later. 
> 
> It’s just that all the planned smut chapters coinciding all of a sudden kinda put me on this one track mind. Sorry.


	10. Siri, Play Despacito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mystery letter pulls Arthur away. John and Aiden go bounty hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, after a long ass time and super heavy workload, traveling and such. The 10th chapter is finally hereeeeee. I think I’m gonna try to stick to updating the story on sundays. 
> 
> I hope you like this!

"You sure about this?" John scrunched his eyebrows as he held up the wanted poster of Joshua Brown. "This feller's got a real nasty look in his eyes."

"Yeah, relax. I got this." Aiden grinned. "Unless you're afraid, Marston. You gonna chicken out?" 

"Course not!" John blinked. "Just worried for you 's all, seein' _you_ can barely shoot straight. Wouldn't want to you start cryin' on me if things get rough."

Aiden rolled his eyes, "At least I can _swim_. How are you doing ferry jobs if you can't swim, huh? You want me to make you a little floaty next time?"

John leaned back dramatically, "It's not like-"

"Oh hey, Arthur's back." Aiden stood up from the wooden steps of the Sherif's office and left John behind. The blonde man had wanted to check for mail before their departure.

"Hello, Mr.Kilgore, you ready to go?" 

Arthur smiled, his eyes downcast.

"Uh oh, what's wrong?" Aiden reached for Arthur's hand but pulled back, looking around for bystanders. 

Arthur took his hand and rubbed it with his thumb. It was unlike him to initiate contact in public. Aiden noticed the wrinkled envelope in his clutch. 

It read 'Arthur.' Not 'Tacitus.'

"Listen, uh, I gotta go take care of something, might be gone a few days," Arthur said, holding Aiden's gaze flinchingly.

"What's wrong?" Aiden said softly.

"Nothin' sweetheart, just some old business."

"So you're not coming?" Aiden frowned.

"'Fraid not." Arthur rubbed at Aiden's hand besettingly. "But John will take you, ain’t that right?" He turned his attention to the scarred man behind Aiden. His stare choking off Marston's questions."

"Sure, why not," John said, his confusion resonating with Aiden's.

"Now you two stay outta trouble. And you, Marston, keep him _safe_." the outlaw's voice sloped to a whisper, laden with wisps of guilt.

The duo watched as Arthur's Tennessee Walker disappeared around the mountain trail. A brief silence between them tightened the knot in Aiden's stomach. _What now?_

"Come on, little man. Let's get this done." John called as he turned away.

The two rode in silence, not entirely accustomed to being alone together. 

"It's probably just some business with Dutch. Morgan likes to play it all cryptic, but I know him. It's probably nothin'." John said.

"Yeah, maybe." Aiden hummed absentmindedly, putting on a faint smile for the effort. 

Dutch likely wouldn't address a letter to Arthur's real name, seeing that he's the one that created the Tacitus charade.

"So uh, you know where we goin’ ?" John drawled with nonchalance. 

Aiden grunted, his unfocused eyes fix to the ground. "Yeah... this guy is up in Beryl's Dream, holed up in an old mine. He's gonna be pretty close to the entrance, so it should be easy to find..." 

"How the hell do you _know_ that?" John asked.

_Crap._

Aiden snapped straight. "I'm just guessing. I mean the sheriff said he's hanging around there, right?"

"No, the sheriff said he's 'north-west of Strawberry,' he didn't say nothin' about Beryl's Dream or an old mine." John squinted. "Now I know I'm stupid, but I ain't _that_ stupid. You know _exactly_ where this feller is hidin'. The same way you knew where Arthur and the men were headed yesterday before they even started runnin'. Same way you _knew_ the job was gonna go south."

Aiden puffed, making peace with the fact that he had almost been intentionally cluing him in on his secret. Like a serial killer, the need to get caught was just too immense.

* * *

"So you mean, in a hundred years they'll be makin' films about us?" John's raspy voice resonated with pride. "Must have done real good for ourselves. The mighty Van Der Linde Gang." He waved his hand, visualizing the shiny letters on a silver screen.

"So after everything I just told you, _that's_ what you choose to focus on?" The younger man rolled his eyes.

"No, no, wait," John shushed Aiden, "John Marston and Aiden Bennett, the most fearsome gunfighters in the land."

The pair broke out in laughter.

"Well it's not a film, well I mean it kinda is- but you can control what the main character does and who he talks to."

"And out of all people, they decided the main character should be Morgan?" John said.

"Hey, don't be so salty. Would you rather have it be about Bill or Micah?"

"Hm." John nodded.

"Besides, you got your own game too," Aiden said mysteriously.

"I do?" John steered closer to Aiden's horse.

"Yep. Your's is the sequel to Arthur's, twelve years after he dies."

"Woah, hold up. Arthur dies?" Like any wanted man, John had always known that a fiery death lurked in his future. But hearing Arthur's demise as a historical fact was different. 

Very different.

Aiden pouted as he chewed the inside of his lip. Telling people how they die might never get easier; having hindsight on his companions' fates but his own was a new kind of melancholy. He wondered too if a fiery death was just around the corner.

"Yeah. Tuberculosis. He dies in a few months." Aiden answered casually. 

_And getting shot in the head by Micah._

"Nah, quit foolin’ around. That ain't Arthur. No flu can kill that mean bastard." John said with a subdued chuckle. The fire in his eyes flickered violently.

Aiden shrugged. "I don't know for sure; I've been trying to change how things will turn out. I think at least I stopped Arthur from getting sick."

John nodded with gratitude. 

The late spring heat dialed up as they spoke, John tugged at his collar. Aiden leaned away to pat around for his waterskin, the one he always hung in the same exact spot.

John broke the silence. "So do you know what happens-"

"John, I think it's better if I don't tell you too much about what happens to _us_. It's for a good reason. Trust me, okay?" Aiden said softly, trying not to make his companion feel stupid.

"Okay, sure, whatever." John shrugged, clearing his throat. John seldom looked worried. And just like Arthur, he hides it with an angry facade.

* * *

The duo stopped by a waterfall after a whole morning's ride. After hours without conversation, The afternoon sun was starting to choke Aiden.

He hated that his knowledge only brought pain and disappointment. 

"You wanna see something really cool?" Aiden called out to the man refilling his skin by the small pond.

"Huh? Sure." John blinked in recognition, the gears behind his eyes slowed their furious grinding.

"Come here," Aiden waved as he rummaged through his satchel.

"I haven't even shown Arthur this. It's called an iPhone." Aiden grinned excitedly as he presented the black slab of glass as John approached him, hugging his knees on the grass. 

"Okay...what's it do?" John said with disinterest as he turned the glass slab in his hand.

"Give it here." Aiden yanked the device from the older man's hand and pressed down on the power button. 

A picture of three cats appeared.

_What. The. Fuck._

Aiden nodded smugly at John's wide eyes, the look of sheer comical horror on the outlaw's face needed to be preserved at all costs. He swiped open the camera and took a snap of John's frozen form before he could react.

The scarred-faced outlaw fell backward in reaction to the flash, flinching away as if expecting a gunshot.

"The hell was that!" John finally exclaimed, moving his arm so he could see the phone again.

"It's a telephone. We use them to talk to each other." 

"I know what a telephone is! And it ain't that!" John raised his voice, apparently taken aback by the insult on his intelligence.

"Well in the future, this is what it looks like." The young man basked in John's reaction. He had been waiting to do this ever since he turned up in this strange new world.

"We use these to do all sorts of things. We watch videos, we listen to music, text our friends; all sorts of stuff." Aiden explained as he scrolled through the home screens, thumbing at the various apps.

The younger man felt puffs of hot air on his shoulder as John glued himself to his side, peaking over his shoulder wide-eyed. His brown eyes dialed wide as grids of little squares darted across the magical mirror. 

Aiden laughed, the look on John's incredulous expression reminded him of his cats; of their hilarious state of unblinking focus, recreated perfectly on John Marston's face.

"Oh, I think you'll love this," The young man leaned over to search his bag as John gingerly swiped at the screen with his forefinger, then bending low to check if there was anything moving on the back side of the phone. 

"Here it is, I bet it's gonna feel wild for the first time," Aiden straightened back up.

John looked at the younger man blankly, unable to fathom how things could possibly get wilder than a magical hand mirror that can summon house cats; John flinched once more as Aiden shoved the buds in his ears, plugging the other end of the white yarn into the mirror.

"You ready for this, cowboy?" Aiden grin was practically ear to ear.

"Uh...what's gonna-" 

Aiden pressed the play button and watched as John launched into space.

The canyon rang with laughter.

* * *

Aiden and John rode lazily along the forest path as the late afternoon heat slowly dissipated. Slanted beams of gold speared through the canopy of pines. Aiden looked up through the trees and saw black birds circling in flocks; the pink sunset glow looked just like he remembered from his time, one of the very few things that did. _At least something stayed the same._

John rode a few paces behind Aiden, his head bobbing along with the music in his ears. _The Very Best Of The Eagles_

The white headphone cable snaked down his jacket into his jeans' pocket. Aiden couldn't help but imagine John in modern clothing; he'd probably be a slob in 2019 too. He could see the man in grey sweatpants and a college football hoodie from Goodwill; curled up in a ball on the couch, groaning as he receives a text from his boss, grilling him for taking too many sick days.

Aiden smiled with a puff. John's honey brown eyes darted toward him. "Huh?" John grunted as he removed the left earbud.

"Nothing, I'm just bored," Aiden said with a shrug. 

"You makin' fun of me, little man?" John caught up on the funky expression, much to Aiden's surprise.

"What if I am, raccoon man?" Aiden wriggled his eyebrows.

John shook his head with a subtle smile as he took off the other earbud. "Sun's setting, we should start settin' up camp if we don't wanna get caught in the cold." 

The older man left Aiden clumsily pounding in the wooden stakes of the tent to go hunt. A few dozen minutes and a couple of gunshots later, John emerged from the brush with two rabbits slung over his shoulder, the carcasses twisted and mangled where the bullets entered and left. 

Aiden could picture Charles shaking his head in disappointment; though he was nonetheless impressed by Marston's efficiency. Or perhaps rabbits do scurry all over aimlessly as they did in the video game. Had a rabbit appeared in the streets of modern San Francisco, it would have no doubt ended up on dozens of Instagram pages. Had someone shot said rabbit and ate it, there would have been a social media shitstorm.

Snapped back to the present by the carcasses dumped in front of him, Aiden looked up as John plopped down next to him. 

"You start this fire?" John's husky voice broke the silence that neither of them was aware of.

Aiden frowned, "No, Charizard popped out of a Pokeball and did it for me- who do you think?" 

"Yeah yeah, snarky little shit - I was lookin' to compliment you. Now get to work skinning them rabbits, I did the huntin'." John looked unimpressed by the weird attitude.

"Um," The younger man pulled out his hunting knife and lifted a rabbit gingerly.

"What's the matter, _princess_? Arthur skin all your rabbits for you?" John bounced off of Aiden's energy. The two always bantered endlessly when together; even more so than when John's with Arthur.

"Real gunslingers don't pout," John said lightheartedly as he grabbed the rabbit from Aiden. 

The pair ate in silence as John was absorbed in the newfound miracle that is Spotify. The man tapped his feet as garbled bits of lyrics annoyed and amused Aiden at the same time. No matter the time period, give a man a music player, and he'll hum and tap the same way. 

"You wanna see what else this thing could do?" Decidedly bored after a while, Aiden leaned over to pull out John's earbuds, earning him a sour scowl.

"This is a video," Aiden turned the screen over, the look of shock on Marston's face will never get old. 

The blue light of the phone screen bounced off of John's wide eyes as he stared at the footage of Aiden walking downtown, laughing as a male voice from behind the camera pointed left and right. 

"This where you from?" John asked, pointing at the skyscrapers in the background.

"Yeah...San Francisco." Aiden watched the video too, suddenly homesick again.

"Whew, California's a long way," John mumbled, almost to himself. 

Aiden nodded.

"Who's that?" John asked, startling Aiden. "The voice, I mean."

Aiden's eyes darted to John's for a moment before moving away.

"You got another feller waitin' for you back home?" The man was far smarter than he was given credit for.

Aiden blinked as his throat tightened, making him tug at his shirt collar. "I don't think he'd be waiting for me. Don't think I'll ever go back home either." 

"Hm." John shrugged, the video cut off abruptly and he laid the phone on his lap.

"You miss it?" The gravelly voice came measured and soft.

Aiden frowned, it was unlike John to probe, unlike him to ask these questions. He wondered if he meant home or the man in the video.

"I don't know." Aiden whispered.

Silence.

"I do miss the internet though," Aiden perked up slightly, eager to change the topic.

"What's that?" 

"It's where all that music came from. It's like a... a huge library where people from all over the world can share things and talk to each other, instantly." 

John nodded sagely despite having no grasp on the concept whatsoever. 

"We use it for almost everything, though most people use it for porn the most," Aiden added.

"What's 'porn'?" John tilted his head. Aiden's evil smile struck again.

"Aw, you innocent wittle baby." Aiden pouted dramatically and patted John's greasy black hair, prompting the scarred man to swat him away impatiently. 

"Put your earbuds in." Aiden grinned as he swiped at his phone. John did as instructed.

"This is porn. Gay porn." Aiden turned the slab around and hit play.

Lewd moaning and showy swearing blasted through the earbuds as the men on screen sprung into motion. John ripped out the earbuds.

"Jesus Christ, Bennett!" John bellowed, his face flooding over with a deep shade of scarlet. Even the two claw scars on his right cheek became light pink.

"What?" Aiden asked with nonchalance.

"I didn't need to see that!" John complained, subconsciously turning away to hide his fluster.

"So you have no shame peeping on me and Arthur doing the ol' nasty, but you act all shy and innocent from _porn_?" Aiden smirked, the conversation was once again under his thumb.

"No!" John blurted out, his shame deepening by the second. "I wasn't...That was different!"

"Different how?" Aiden pushed on, scooting closer into the 26-year-old's space.

"I don't know... I mean, I know you two," John said in a low voice, his hand tugging at his crusty leather vest nervously.

"You mean Arthur?" Aiden said. "You and Arthur had a thing, didn't you?"

"Would you quit askin' so many questions?" John waved off the topic, the same way Arthur would. The rabbit leg in his hand was suddenly becoming more delicious and irresistible.

"I see the way you look at each other; you guys messed around before, haven't you?" Aiden wagged his finger as John avoided the digit as if it were a viper.

John looked at his friend with confusion and...shame? He had thought the young man would be angry. Abigail certainly would've been. 

"Come on, golden boy, spill the tea." Aiden leaned back, supporting himself on his elbows; giving the cornered man some air. “Were you two like, undercover lovers or something?”

John bit his lips. Normally he wouldn’t have even entertained this conversation at all. But there was something different about Aiden, despite the little shit that he was. Perhaps he was the only one in the world who would have the hindsight to understand. The same kind of hindsight that Arthur provided him all his life. John felt the same warmth that he thought only Arthur had.

John remained silent until the relentless buzzing of the cicadas became unbearable. "It wasn't nothin' like that. I was just a street rat when Dutch brought me in, all I knew was stealing an' hidin’ like vermin. He and Hosea taught my dumbass to read and live by a code. He was like a father to me. But Arthur was like that too, sorta like a father but more, like a big brother, you know what I'm saying?"

Aiden nodded, the candor excited and worried and confused him all at once. John swallowed to wet his throat. The man wasn't used to speaking so much at once; during his year of self-exile he barely spoke at all, silence suited him better.

"-He taught me what was what, set me straight more than he had to. I looked up to him; he always seemed to know what to do- until that whole deal with Mary fuckin' Gillis. Never figured what about that woman drove Morgan so over his head, always talkin' down on him, going on about 'his kind.' Always looked at me real mean too." John huffed with disdain. 

"Arthur was real down when that woman ran off to marry some other feller, so we went to town to get drunk, ended up gettin' a room together." Aiden raised his eyebrows expectantly, and John laughed nervously. 

"Weren't nothin' special, we shared rooms all the time. Arthur was drunker than I've ever seen him, mumbling nonsense about how awful love was." He smiled, "Then he called me over, wanted me to hold him for a bit." John looked up to the unadulterated starry sky, the memory of that night playing back in the velvet blue, his face a smear of sunset red. 

The scarred man curled inward when Aiden rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing the way Arthur would, an apologetic smile on his lips.

"He started cryin' in a way I've never seen him do before- the real heartbroken sort. 'Always you' he kept sayin' on and on. I thought he was talkin' about Mary till he turned around an' looked me dead in the eyes and uh, kissed me, right on the mouth." John's red had faded, a sense of calm foreign to him washed over as he drifted the purple and pink reverie. Aiden and the forest were no longer there.

"I didn't know what to do so we kinda just lied there until he fell asleep. Next morning it was like it never happened. He didn't mention it, and I never got around to askin'." John fell silent, but the thread of the story lingered.

"Why didn't you ask?" Aiden scooted closer.

"I don't know." John said. 

"It's okay to be scared, you know?" 

"I ain't scared." John said, his voice raising slightly. "Just figured Dutch wouldn't like it."

Aiden rolled his eyes, "Pfft, fuck Dutch and fuck what he thinks."

"Hey, why do you hate Dutch so much?" John frowned.

Aiden shrugged, "You'll see. And I'm just saying it's normal if you were. I mean, a hundred years from now, guys are still getting stoned to death at the town square if they get caught messing around with each other."

"I ain't surprised. Folk always need somethin' to hate. I guess time don't change that." Marston's raspy voice lent weight to his words. "We were both afraid, I guess."

The silky breeze brought along the scent of fresh pine, wet earth and coal. The cicadas began to fall asleep as Aiden's white Arabian huffed, tossing her braided mane from side to side. The older man slowly nudged a twig toward the fire with his foot.

"I ain't sour about it, you know; about you and Arthur. I'm glad you're here to snap him out of things sometimes." John continued, Aiden smiled softly. "God knows I blew it. You shoulda seen his face when Abigail-" 

"Got pregnant," Aiden said, catching the invisible ball. John nodded.

"An' out of all people she chose me, I was the only one dumb enough to admit it," John grumbled with a tinge of sourness. 

His eyes suddenly sparkled as he looked Aiden straight in the eyes, "Do you know if-"

"Yeah...Jack is yours." Aiden bit his lip, "I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear."

"It is what it is. Ain't no one to blame 'cept myself." The uncharacteristic twinkle in Marston's eyes faded. It was his nature to ask questions he didn't want answered.

Aiden decided to borrow foresight he didn't have for the first time. For his friend's sake. "Well if it makes things any better, you'll leave all this behind one day, build a beautiful ranch, jack will grow up to be a fine-"

"Do you love him, that old bastard?" John sheared right through the bullshit. The younger man recoiled at the question, _Of course I do._ he should've said without hesitation.

The words never came out.

"I-I think so," Aiden stammered, he was unsure he could love Arthur as much as John did. He was too cynical. Blind loyalty wasn't part of his fabric like it was John's. If Arthur or Dutch had told John to shoot himself in the head, he'd ask for a bullet. Somehow Aiden's hesitation to be the same made him ashamed.

"He's been through a lot, we all have, but especially Arthur. Maybe it takes another man to understand it." John turned over slowly, the firelight licking his scars. " _You gotta take care of him_ , little man, you're the only one who can."

"Yeah...sure." 

Aiden curled up in his bedroll that night and wished John could be free.


	11. You Kinda Look Like Bill Cosby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur returns. Aiden cheats his bounty with his knowledge. The duo is greeted by other bounty hunters wearing green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you can see, this is gonna be a looooooong fic, seeing that none of the fucked up shit I promised has happened yet. But it will, and the plot picks up from there. Hope you guys don't mind the wait too much. 
> 
> I'm trying to write as often as I can, but sometimes inspiration runs dry, sorry :((

Chapter 11

"Okay, so right up this hill a bit to the left is the mine, he should be inside," Aiden whispered as he and John hid behind a boulder in the narrow canyon pass.

"Why the hell are you whispering?" John whispered back, lowering his binoculars. "We're 500 feet away, and I can't see shit from this rock."

Aiden shushed him impatiently, "Would you shut your mouth for like two seconds? We gotta set the mood for shit like this." Aiden hissed as he began tying up his bandana.

"Why are you coverin' your face, this ain't a-" 

Aiden shot him a deadly glare, John shook his head and put on his bandana. 

"Here we go," Aiden whispered as he dashed out of the stone covering, gluing himself to a wide trunk five feet ahead, revolver in hand. The masked outlaw behind him stood with his hands thrown wide in bewilderment.

"Move up, move up," Aiden half-whispered, slinging his middle and forefinger toward the cave like an army commander in a movie. John rolled his eyes and walked over to the nearest tree.

"Okay, what's your plan, _Boss_." John asked when they finally reached the tree closest to the entrance of the shaded mine, the thin trunk clearly not providing enough cover for both of them.

"Uh...you go search that mine." 

John ripped off his bandana, "Seriously? That's your big plan, Bennett? Just send me to do the job?" 

"Bro I'm in charge here, are you gonna keep bitching or are you gonna get in there?" Aiden also took off his bandana, his hand mimicking a yapping mouth.

"Fine...just don't shoot me in the back." John grumbled as he walked toward the cave entrance, "Never should've agreed to this shit."

* * *

A shroud of coal dust curled in the damp air as John stepped into the cave, chunks of rock and coal crunched and echoed on the rough stone walls. He stopped to wonder if the splintering wood beams would come down on him if he farted too loud. Water dripped from somewhere above, hitting the red-rusted mine rails to an annoying tempo.

John wrinkled his nose; the shaft smelled abandoned, nothing but moss, rotten wood, coal and... _coffee?_

Behind the slump of sandbags stacked on the broken rails, he found a makeshift camp. The hastily snuffed fire pit still glowed orange. A can of opened sweet corn sat on the ground, still moist and only half eaten. 

_Bastard's close._ John rested his wrist on his scratched up Schofield, as his shoulders tensed at the unseen enemy. Suddenly, a faint shadow whisked across the wooden beams deeper into the cave. 

"Dead end." The low bass of Joshua Brown snuffed out the remaining embers by the wrinkled bedroll. He wore a striped blue trench coat with a fresh tan leather vest. His face clean and his undershirt pressed and starched; not much like an outlaw on the run. John whipped around, but the other man already had his hand on his gun. 

"You got nowhere to go, bounty hunter." The old man stalked forward as he struck a match against the wall and lit his cigarette.

"We- uh I ain't here to kill you," John said in a low voice, his palms unfurling as he raised them in surrender. His brain spun a mile a second: he knew there's little chance of winning the draw against the seasoned shootist. Judging from the natural humor in Brown's voice, John could tell there was no lack of trying.

Brown chuffed as he thrummed the cherrywood stock on his waist, his posture relaxed like a well-fed predator. 

"Wouldn't matter if you were, there's only one way outta here, and that's through me." The black man blinked slowly as he enjoyed his smoke, lazily sizing up the young fool that he's about to put down. _Shame, such a fine young man._

Keeping his hands raised, Marston took a step toward the entrance. Seeing that Brown made no reaction, he took another step. He crept toward the entrance flooded with blinding sunlight, hoping to open up the opportunity to escape should things go south. 

"Come easy," He said with unconvincing nonchalance. "I'll say something to the law." 

"Ha," Brown discarded the smoldering match, "It ain't gonna be easy; you're gonna have to draw on me to get me out." 

John narrowed his eyes as the old man strolled to the center of the cave, blocking his path. The message was clear: Only one man will leave this cave unscathed. 

His face steeled as he took a final step forward, his boots shoulder-length apart, bits of charcoal and dirt clawed and grappled as he ground them with his heels. Marston cracked his neck, tilting his head this way and that, his brown eyes simmering as he stared down his opponent.

"You mighta found me, but you won't beat me, bounty hunter," Brown responded with similar coldness. He wrung his wrists, the humor in his eyes gone. Every outlaw alive knew the look.

"Alright then..." John grumbled dangerously as his hand gradually lowered till the tip of his middle finger touched the cold steel of his cylinder, same as Brown.

The edges of John's vision pulsed in time with his racing heart as every minuscule twitch of Brown's fingers were magnified, analyzed then reanalyzed. John had never dueled a man proper; besides that time Arthur taught him the rules when he was seventeen. 

The blonde man always said, _Folk who need shootin', I try to shoot in the back._

Time slowed as Brown's finger touched his gun; both parties were now free to draw. John narrowed his eyes.

The sound of ants scuttling across the ground rang and echoed along the cave walls. The extinguished fire pit crackled and nearly came back to life.

With a shallow inhale, John's calloused hand slide down along the smooth varnish of his gun as he drew the weapon with blinding speed, his left already en route to the silver hammer.

Brown was already mid-draw.

 _Click_ The outer edge of John's palm swiped at the hammer just as his trigger finger curled.

 _BANG_ The deafening shockwave of John's revolver ripped through the glittering shroud of coal dust. The wooden beam behind Joshua Brown exploded into a flurry of fragments; the black man stiffed and keeled over.

Behind him stood Aiden, silky black hair drifting in the cool breeze. The young man clutched a thick wooden club smeared with blood where it made contact.

John stood in place, his pistol still exhaling idly, pointed where Brown stood just a half-second ago. 

"You missed, Johnny boy," Aiden said, unimpressed as he looked back at the shattered beam behind him.

The older man couldn't decide whether to thank him or punch him.

"You knew!" John finally managed.

"Of course I knew. I followed him as soon as he crawled out of his bush to follow you." Aiden smiled slightly.

"Then why the hell didn't you tell me?! I coulda been shot!" John yelled, his voice carrying angrily along the sealed off shaft.

"Relax, you know I wouldn't have let him shoot my favorite raccoon." The young man winked cheekily. "I was just curious how this would play out with you in Arthur's place. You looked like you were gonna shit yourself for a second there, Marston." 

"Shut up kid! Maybe I should've just shot _you_ instead!" Marston huffed as he walked up to B\rown, giving him a mild kick.

"You know you love me too much to do that," Aiden laughed. "You think he's dead?" He looked down, also nudging Brown's unconscious body with his foot.

"Don't know, looks like you got him pretty good." Marston gestured at the blood-stained branch.

Aiden shrugged, "Well, tie him up, we'll try our luck anyway."

John frowned, "Me? Why don't _you_ tie him up, Mr. goddamn know-it-all."

"Cause I just saved your life?"

* * *

"Arthur would've shot the gun clean out of his hand, you know?" Aiden broke the silence, his white Arabian trotting leisurely along the forest path.

John groaned with his face to the sky, "Would you just _shut up_ about Arthur?" 

"He does it real suave too, unlike _someone_." Aiden drew his hand from his holster like a gun, mimicking the way Arthur draws. "Not to mention you totally stole Arthur's script word by word too, what a loser." John didn't need to look to see the laughter in Aiden's voice

"I'm just gonna ignore you." John said, red-faced. His voice scratchy and deep as usual.

The young man shrugged as he turned back to the trail, letting it sink in for a second. "If it makes you feel better, Joshua Brown shot Arthur in the face the first few times. Took me a couple tries to complete this mission."

"What do you mean, a 'few times'?" John perked up.

"In video games, you can start over if you fail a mission." Aiden replied casually. "So if you die in a mission, you can just load your last save and try it again." 

John's lips parted as he mulled over the thought of being able to redo Black Water. "So, if you can just wave your hand and start over, then why the hell would Arthur die?" 

Aiden shrugged, "It's just the way the story was written I guess. You gotta start and end the game somewhere. You can start the whole game over again as many times as you want, but it'll always starts in Colter after the ferry job and always ends when Arthur dies alone miserably."

John huffed again as he turned the concept over in his head, "Aren't you just cheerful as a ball of sunshine." He grumbled.

Brown groaned as his limp, hog-tied body wriggled on Old Boy's rear. "The hell is this?" He said weakly as his world spun upside down. His doubling vision was slowly stitching itself back into one.

Aiden looked back at the man draped over John's stallion: "Oh boy, this guys gonna have a lot to say."

The bounty recovered from his stupor faster than a man of his age had any right to. "Have you got no honor, bounty hunter? What kind of man knocks another man out from behind and ties him up like this?"

Aiden and John rolled their eyes.

"You got no decency, bounty hunter. If I was any younger I would've heard you coming a mile away. I would've turned right 'round and put one between your eyes faster than you can strike a match." The bound man went on tirelessly. "Who the hell would-"

Aiden sighed, "Look, mister, you look like a nice guy and all, but we're just trying to do our-" Aiden trailed off and bent down to take a better look at Joshua Brown's face. "Huh, actually, up close you kinda look like... like Bill Cosby." He traded a glance with John. "How funny, I feel less guilty about this all of a sudden. Weird." He shrugged.

"Who the hell is Bill Cosby?" Marston and Brown asked in unison. 

"You don't wanna know." Aiden waved off the question. "Just uh, remember to always check your drinks, man."

A deep voice came from ahead, "That's big Josh, alright." The mounted man in the middle of the intersection hollered at his unseen friends. 

"Oh shit." Aiden immediately spun around looking for more men hiding in the brush. _This is way too soon._

Aiden cut John off as he opened his mouth, his heart racing "John, they're gonna shoot no matter what you say." 

Right on cue, the first bullet whipped past the pair of outlaws, grazing Old Boy's hip and narrowly missing Brown's head by mere inches. A warning shot. Both Marston and Brown yelped as the wounded horse whined and reared, tossing them both off.

Marston landed on his side anticipating the fall, quickly recovering as he rolled behind a boulder while the hog-tied Joshua Brown dropped like a sack of potatoes onto the ground, complete with a _thud_. 

In his panic, Aiden almost fell off his horse without being shot at. He gracelessly dismounted behind the thick brush on the side of the canyon road before shooing away his mount.

"Why don't we take that bounty off you?" The gunman asked politely. His green neckerchief tucked in his ragged black wool jacket.

John and Aiden looked at each other with their weapons drawn.

John yelled: "Listen fellers, we ain't lookin' for no trouble. We're just tryin' to get–"

"Come at me you chicken noodle limp dick piece of shit!" Aiden yelled over him, drawing an incredulous look from both Marston and Brown, who was still tied up in the middle of the dirt road. 

the young man shrugged, not sure where all that came from either.

"Looks like we got ourselves a couple of talkers, boys. Well, you heard him, oblige the gentlemen. Just keep Brown alive."

A round of whooping carried from down the road, more voices than Aiden had remembered, but he dared not take a peek. Gunshots quickly followed, peppering the brush Aiden was hiding in. 

A blizzard of splinters and scraps of tree bark showered onto the young man as he shielded his face. The sound of Marston's return fire sounded distant in the blanketing cacophony of whizzing and snapping around him. Aiden's slender body slid down along the oak tree's broad trunk as he instinctively tried to minimize his footprint. 

Out of the corner of his eye amid the sudden chaos he spotted Brown; the hog-tied prisoner still curled up on the road as ricochets splattered the dirt around him, a few feet away from his position.

"The hell are you waitin' for kid? I ain't worth no money dead!" It took several moments for Aiden to realize that Brown was talking, several more to process his words. He dumbly reached out to pull the man when a heavy slug bounced on the dirt in beneath him and shattered, shredding the hem of his loose-fitting white shirt. Aiden yelped and ducked back behind the tree trunk. 

"Come on!" Brown yelled again, still miraculously unharmed. 

"Shut up! I'm trying!" Aiden replied, _deep breaths, deep breaths_. He dived out under the cover of a storm of drifting dirt, feeling around in the stinging blindness before feeling the coarse wool of Brown's jacket. He immediately pulled back with all his might.

"Fuck you're fat!" Aiden roared as he jerked his prisoner toward safety. His face bright red from the strain.

"Just keep pulling!" Brown yelled back, his bound legs pushing against the ground without purchase.

"You still alive there, kid?" John's shouted with his gritty voice.

"Doing great; just keep shooting!" Aiden took a few breaths before powering through the last stretch. He collapsed behind the tree with Brown at his feet. "I need a fucking cocktail." He said to himself between gasping breaths

"Untie me, kid!" Brown said.

"Hell no! I got enough people shooting at me already." Aiden said as reached out to put in a few blind shots.

"Untie me, bounty hunter! I can shoot better than you." The old man held Aiden's gaze firmly as he crouched down to reload his gun. 

"Okay, but you're still my bounty. You gotta pinky promise you won't run away." The young man felt stupid, but no other method of assurance came to mind.

"What–" Brown blinked, "Fine whatever," He said as Aiden reached back to hook his pinky with his own. "Now untie me, son." 

Aiden drew his hunting knife and sawed off the ropes. Brown bounced to his feet with the agility of a man twenty years his junior and snatched the silver cattleman out of his grasp.

"Hey!" Aiden realized what he had done and scrambled to reach back to his unwieldy Varmint. Brown pointed the gun at him, and Aiden flinched his eyes close. His last thoughts were of his stupidity. 

_Click_ Aiden cracked open one eye to see that Brown had flicked out the cylinder and back in one deft motion, instantly taking count of the rounds in the gun. 

"Well what the hell are you waitin' for, are you a bounty hunter or what?" Joshua Brown shouted as he began to put lead down the road.

"Yes!" 

"Then _defend your goddamn bounty!!_ " 

"Right," Aiden mumbled as he took position next to Brown, Varmint in hand. 

"Did your grandmother taught you to shoot?" Brown said. His combined effort with John had begun to whittle down the number of assailants.

"I'm fucking trying!"

"Here, just reload the goddamn gun," Brown said as he took the rifle, tossing the piping hot revolver to Aiden. He rolled his eyes at the notion of being put on the bench once more. Yet there was at least five times the number of men coming after Brown's bounty than he remembered from the game. 

Suddenly, the shouting and shooting from down the road paused.

On the other side of the road, John peaked out curiously, "What the hell?" The sounds abruptly resumed, but bullets no longer came raining down in their direction. A second party had come to their rescue. 

A rippling explosion rushed through the canyon as they yelped and whipped around, searching for the shooters behind them.

Moments later the pounding thump of hooves multiplied as the bounty men scattered in the midst of confusion, Brown and Marston fired on them, taking down several men as they fled the battle. Even Aiden managed to nail one wimpy looking rider in the shoulder.

"Think we're clear, bounty hunter," Brown said, his eyes not leaving the ball of smoke and dirt knocked up by the explosion.

A silhouette faded into view, the smoke parting to make way for their maker. Arthur emerged, revolver in one hand and a dull red stick of dynamite in the other. Blood and dirt smeared across his face, accentuating his blue eyes tinted dark with murder. 

Aiden gasped, "Hey hey hey, that's my cowboy!" He said as he slapped Brown on the chest; his other hand fumbled in his satchel, taking out his phone. 

"Lookin' like a total badass," Aiden said to himself as he snapped away. "This gone be my wallpaper." 

Arthur stopped, turning to look at John behind the boulder, then to Aiden and Joshua on the other side in the brush. He clenched his jaw.

"I leave you alone for _two_ days, Aiden. _Two goddamn days._ An' somehow you managed to bring down a whole army upon yourselves." Arthur bellowed without a trace of humor. Marston opened his mouth to speak, but Morgan raised a finger without looking, shoving the man's words back down his throat with a vicious glare. "What the hell did I tell you."

Aiden whined, "It's not my–" 

"WHAT DID I SAY?" Arthur roared.

Aiden flinched, he's never seen Arthur so angry; at least not at him.

"Lay low, no playing hero. I _fucking_ told you!" Arthur shook Aiden hard, his gloved fingers digging into the young man's shoulders hard enough to bruise.

Aiden cried out in shock. The older man immediately released him, jolting back as if touching a live wire; a million shades of guilt came over his face. 

The pain in his shoulder didn't stop. Aiden looked down at the source of it to find blood blooming on his white shirt, just barely peeking out of his tan jacket.

Aiden swallowed, "Shit, I'm shot." his legs jellified as the adrenaline from the battle drained out of him.

A differently kind of panic gripped the outlaw as he ripped off Bennett's jacket and bloodied sleeve, letting out a heavy sigh as he inspected the graze. It was mild gash, the bleeding already mostly coagulated.

Wordlessly, Morgan retrieved a roll of gauze and a bottle of whiskey. Aiden winced and instinctively pulled away as the splash of brown liquid slid over the wound and out, mixing into a stream of red opaqueness as it dripped onto the ground. Without looking up, the blonde man continued to wrap up Aiden's wound.

The young man reached out to stroke Morgan's unruly mane, the man ducked away. 

The mid-September heat abruptly turned brisk. 

"Arthur?"


	12. Ghosts of Yesteryear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden is lost in reveries as the trio travels home. A baffling conversation with Hosea begins to make sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a whole month of non-stop work and procrastination I have finally squeezed out half a chapter of content. I've decided to post it as one whole chapter just to make myself feel better. Hoping I'll hear some encouraging words and pick up my pace. (wink wink)
> 
> I think I'm really losing my touch with the writing and it makes me really sad tbh.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like what little I could write.
> 
> Compacted Part 2 into the same chapter notes in the bottom

The ride back to Strawberry remained oppressively silent, save for the staccato of Joshua Brown's muffled groaning. 

Arthur Morgan rode ahead of his companions with their bounty on the back of his Walker. 

A bloodied bandage clung tightly to Brown's calve; Arthur had shot him point blank when the old man challenged him to a proper duel in a bid for his freedom.

"Are you outta your damn mind, Morgan? That our bounty!” John said.

"Arthur, what the fuck!" Aiden thundered in unison as he rushed to Brown's side. "He saved me, you dick." 

Aiden inspected the hole in the Brown's leg; dark red blood ran down against his dark skin in a thin, constant stream. He sighed a breath of relief– The bullet passed clean through the man's muscles without damage to the bones. Aiden had no idea what to do if it did.

"You shot me! And you didn't even have the decency to do it right!" Brown clenched between groans.

"He was just savin' himself," Arthur grumbled, barely giving Aiden enough time to clean and wrap the gaping wound before flipping Brown onto his stomach. The old man cried out in pain and had a rag stuffed into his mouth as a reward.

 

“You give his type half a chance an’ he’ll slip right outta your hands.”

* * *

"Go collect your damned bounty." Marston and Bennett watched as Morgan walked away into the saloon after dumping their bleeding prisoner on the steps of the Sheriff's office like a sack of maize. 

John and Aiden exchanged a look, "Wonder what's his problem now," He slapped Aiden's shoulder, "Don't sweat it, little man, you know he's the sulking type. He ain't mad at you."

"I hope so..." Aiden whispered to himself.

"Come on, haul 'im in and get our money," John said.

"You're not helping?" Aiden said.

"He's your bounty, plus you used me as bait." John leaned against the plank wall.

"Whatever, raccoon boy," Aiden rolled his eyes, 

The lawmen watched as Aiden laboriously dragged the captured man into their office.

"Well well well, would ya look at that?" The sheriff said with his legs still propped on the fraying desk, his bushy caterpillar of a mustache did much to hide his surprise. A tattered hat plopped crookedly on his head, a side of its brim rolled back with years of exposure.

The man had a habit of chewing his filters, Aiden winced in repulsion as the man lazily held out the chewed up cigarette and pointed at Brown's leg wound.

"He needs a doctor really bad," Aiden tried to sound calm.

“You did this?” A young deputy by the stairs to the cells set down his newspaper and approached, the tone of awe in his voice befitting his age. 

John walked in and slapped Aiden’s shoulder: “Yep, this man right here, your new go-to deputy.” 

Aiden smiled with his lips closed, what was to be his moment to preen had turned sour in his mouth. Arthur's mysterious mood shift. Brown getting shot. A _battalion_ of O'Driscolls with a newfound interest in bounty hunting coming after them.

The boyish deputy lifted Brown's head by his hair only to flinch embarrassingly when the old man snaps at him, his face covered in a sheen of sweat. The young deputy quickly straightened his clothes, eyes darting to see if anyone else noticed. Brown's head drooped tiredly to the creaking floor. His chapped lips were opening and closing in shallow breaths.

"Danny, get this man in a cell, an' go fetch doctor Abner." The sheriff said. "Wouldn't want our guest here to miss out on a public hangin' now would we?"

The young deputy nodded nervously as he stalked around the bound man searching for an opening where he couldn't be bitten. John helped him lift the legs, and they disappeared down the stairs.

Sheriff Bushy-stache looked Aiden up and down: “Forgive me, I just didn’t think a fellow of your stature would be... well, bounty hunter material.”

“My stature? Excuse me, mister? What’s wrong with my stature? So what if I'm a bit lean?" Aiden said.  
The sheriff put the cigarette back in his mouth and huffed. “Skinny was more like the word I was thinking of. Not to mention clean, and pretty. Reckoned you’d be a college student or a choir boy." A twinkle of humor in his eyes.

"A CHOIR BOY? What the hell do you mean choir boy? You saying I don’t have balls is that it? And what’s wrong with going to college? So what if I did go to college you cock-less bastards?” Aiden stomped toward the desk, not knowing what he'll do once he gets there. 

He propped himself up on the desk in an attempt to look bigger. His eye searched the table for something significant enough to bash the sheriff's head in. 

A silver key ring hung on the side caught his attention.

Bushy-stache laughed along with John as he re-emerged from the basement. His outstretched arm grabbed the back of Aiden's collar, holding him back.

"Oh, so you're on their side? I'm surrounded by snakes." Aiden huffed, his mood lifting as the air of humor caught on.

John shrugged. “Well, you are clean and pretty.” 

"No, it's called being somewhat hygienic and self-loving."

“Here’s your money, lil bounty hunter," The sheriff interrupted by tossing a clip of bills onto his desk.

"Yeah yeah, give it to me," Aiden said, swiping the clip and thumbed through the bills. "All this flak for 40 bucks..."

"I'm gonna go say bye to old Josh; I kinda liked him," Aiden said over his shoulder.

"Maybe write him a sweet ballet while you're down there, bounty hunter," The sheriff called.

"Ha-ha." Aiden mocked, "What a fucking tool," 

As soon as he descended out of sight, he took out the stolen key-ring and looked it over. 

Brown measured the young man cautiously as he tossed the key onto his lap.

"When you're good to mama, mama's good to you..." Aiden winked as he backed away, singing the _Chicago_ tune.

* * *

An irresistible force suddenly snagged him as he strolled down the hallway, sending him slamming against the steel bars of the cell by the opposite wall with barely time to gasp.

"Bennett? Bennett!" A voice hissed rabidly.

The arm grasping his collar relaxed just as the young man tensed his core in anticipation of a blow, resulting in an unflattering tumble.

"Fuck!" Aiden exclaimed as he rotated on his knees.

Micah laughed breathlessly, "Not exactly who I'd expected Dutch to send–" his forced smile squeezing the various patches of blue and purple on his face in every direction. "–but I ain't complainin', no sir. You gonna get me outta here?"

Aiden climbed to his feet, his face still flushed red from embarrassment. The musty air of the basement glittered with particles of dust, set alight by the sunbeams pushing through the small grated window above the uncomfortable looking cot; blue-striped sheets lay strewn on the thin mattress in abandon, a rusted bucket sat in a dark corner, flies circling above its rim. A church bell rang in the distance. He grinned tenuously as his eyes refocused on the backlit figure in front of him, finally getting a good look at the man's face.

_At least this part is sticking to canon, thank god._

"Aiden!" Micah hissed again in a failed attempt to whisper, raw excitement pouring out along with his foul breath. "Come on brother, get me out before them sheriffs come back sniffin'."

"Hm."Aiden gaze fell distant as he pretended to be deep in thought. 

"I think I'll pass." Thought complete.

Micah recoiled, "What do you mean?! You gotta do something!" He whined.

"Sure, what I'll do is come watch them hang you– I mean, come on man, you think I don't know you've been snitching to the cops?"

The shaggy blonde man stepped away from the iron bars; his mouth hung open in a frowning gasp. _How dare you?_

"Wha- listen Aiden, I don't know where you hear these things, but I'd never rat on-." Gears whirred quietly behind Micah's eyes, "It's Marston isn't it-"

Aiden leaned against the plank wall beside the cell; watching Micah's panic was more satisfying than he could have ever imagined. 

"I'm tellin' you, Bennett. If anyone's a rat, it'll be Marston. Don't let his I'm-just-a-dumb-cowboy act fool you. He's a rotten man, Aiden." Micah's tone hastened as Aiden rolled his eyes and began walking toward the staircase, middle finger flung over his shoulder.

"Nice try, rat snitch,"

"Wait!" Micah called out desperately.

"I'll see you soon, _Cowpoke._ " Aiden called out buoyantly as he ascended the staircase."

"He killed Arthur's son."

The floating particles slowed their manic vibration- from golden to silver to nothing. The church bell rang its last. Was there a church in Strawberry?

_What?_

* * *

Micah exhaled in relief as Aiden turned back to his cell, malice returning to the corner of his lips under cover of the shade. _Gotcha now, boy._

* * *

Another night, another campfire. The Dakota river hummed steadily along, harmonizing with an unseen train. Even for a newcomer, Aiden could see this world changing before his very eyes. Railroad tracks grew up the hills and over the bridges like stalks of poison ivy. The air that smelled like pine and mud just months ago when the young man first sat by this water now reeked of coal fumes.

Aiden laughed to himself, for he had always flattered himself as a voice for progress, a true believer that the new will always be better than the old. Eventually, at least.

John sat by the water listening to rock music, and Arthur snored quietly on Aiden's lap, breath still reeking of alcohol.

Aiden stroked the blonde mess of hair sprawled across his jeans absently as the cicadas sang their swan song; his eyes swept the bushes and tree for the insects he never put in real effort to find.

"Ah, don't let them bother you. They burrow themselves in the ground for years, sometimes decades when they're young before comin' back out. All that waiting for just one summer, and then they die. You'd think the poor bastards must have something important to say." Hosea said to him when summer first began, and the chirping drove Aiden insane.

"What do you think they wanna get across so bad, huh?" The elderly man sat down by the little cooking fire at the edge of camp where Aiden lied alone.

"They're probably just horny," Aiden said as he propped himself up on one elbow from his bedroll.

Hosea laughed, "Yeah, you're probably right." Aiden smiled politely.

"You okay, kid?" The silver-haired man asked, head tilted to see across the fire between them.

Aiden couldn't decide if it would be more convincing to yawn or to rub his eyes: "Yeah, for sure. I'm just tir–"

"Missin' Arthur?" The old conman's watery brown eyes bore right through the flames. Aiden realized it wouldn't have mattered whether he yawned or rubbed his eyes.

"No– I mean yes, but as a _friend_. You know?" The young man slammed his face into his palms to hide from the colossal slip-up. 

_Oh for fuck's sake, Aiden._

A wry smile widened on Hosea's face as he spoke: "You young folk never seem to realize that I was your age once too. I see the way you look at Arthur; I know how it is." Hosea paused to give Aiden a chance to relax. "...Saw the same look on John's face too, a couple years back."

Seeing that the youngster remained speechless for the first time, Hosea went on, "closeness does all sorts of things to us. Those two were inseparable growin' up. Dutch didn't like it, but we both knew what was happening. He's a good man, Johnny is. But he's made mistakes, and now he's payin' for it in his own way." Aiden followed the thread of Hosea's gaze to see a child running circles around the central fireplace, a carved swan in his hand; the two shared a moment of reflective silence as Jack's laughter wafted through the crackling fire.

"So you're okay with that? You know, two boys being together?" Aiden asked gingerly.

Hosea chuckled, "It ain't my business to decide what the Bible says. We made our own code the moment we stepped outside the law, son. All I know is life is short enough already, shorter still for men like us. You'd be a fool not to enjoy love while you can. With whoever you can." 

Aiden swallowed as the wrinkly hand on his shoulder squeezed tighter. The conman held his eyes intensely until the young man nodded.

He looked away, up to the starry night then to the whistling kettle, pouring the hot water into his beaten canteen. "God works in funny ways. Bessie and I were together for sixteen good years; now she gets to rest in peace while folk like me get to live to this ripe old age to spend my days thinkin' about how I could've done better for her. Same with Dutch and sweet Anabelle, god bless her soul."

Hosea looked paler, frailer than he did moments ago. His cheeks hollowed out before the shadows of the firelight, and his shoulders drooped. Aiden thought it must have been a trick of the light.

Aiden waited a respectful few seconds before speaking: "I've heard about Bessie and Anabelle a few times around camp. They sounded like awesome people. I'm really sorry for your loss.

Hosea nodded, "Look at me, old fool rambling on again about the good ol' days. I suppose what I'm trying to get at is we ain't got as much time as we all think, and we oughta make the most of it."

Aiden nodded once more.

"How is the gang treating you?" Hosea's tone picked up.

"Better than I hoped for, to be honest." Aiden looked the old man in the eyes. "The girls like me a lot, I think. The guys are...well, predictable, I guess. Charles is quiet but nice. He takes me out to the forest and tries to teach me stuff. I don't think Javier likes me very much, or maybe he just takes a while to warm up." Aiden shrugged as they both looked toward the Mexican man donning his poncho by the fire, guitar in hand. "Bill is an asshole, but I guess no one's surprised."

The pair laughed again, this time with a lingering sweetness.

"Bill is a...simple man, loyal but a fool. I think he still sees you as an outsider, son." Hosea patted Aiden on the shoulder. "But yes, he is an asshole."

Aiden sat up straight as he chuckled, leaning toward the fatherly man. "And Arthur, well, he saved my life. But I'm not really sure how he feels about me. I mean I get his whole 'yer not ready, kid' thing," Aiden deepened his voice in a poor imitation of the gruff man in question. "Tough love and all that. But sometimes I swear he sees me and immediately walks the other way. It's confusing. He's the closest thing I have to a friend around here."

Hosea stared into the fire as he set the kettle back on the blackened mesh. "Well son, Arthur is a complicated man, to say the least. None of us has had an easy go at it of course, but Arthur has been through more than most.." He drifted off for a moment, "It's monstrous, the things we've put Arthur through, what we've forced onto young John. The things we've done and tried to justify as love."

Aiden smiled weakly, "I think you're too hard on yourself, Hosea. I know Arthur and John have killed a lot of folks and have done bad things. But if you and Dutch hadn't picked him up, he probably would have died in the streets long ago. I know you probably feel guilty about making him into a criminal, But this is his family now. And a family is something a lot of normal people don't have...Like me, until I became a criminal as well." Aiden gestured to the rest of the campsite. "You are Arthur's and John's father. And they are lucky to have you."

Hosea seemingly winced at the statement. A spike of grateful guilt ruptured into a bitter scoff as he shook his head. "I appreciate it, son. But what Dutch and I have done to Arthur and John was anything but _love_." 

The young man nodded almost imperceptibly as a gesture of deference. _If you say so._

A long silence.

Hosea opened his mouth to speak but stopped; a heavy sigh came out instead. "You know that look I talked about earlier? Well, Arthurs looks at you the same way."

"Really?" Hosea's brows unfurled slightly as Aiden's eyes lit up with a sparkle only a man his age could have.

The old man got up unsteadily as his fraying knees struggled to support his slight frame, yet he took the effort to push Aiden back down as the young man climbed up to help him. 

"Arthur hasn't looked at anyone the way he looks at you since...well, since the _good ol' days_." Hosea drifted into a whisper. "Please, son, take care of him. I beg you. He deserves it more than anyone."

Aiden nodded as he turned over the layers of the dramatic conversation in his head, watching the old man grow smaller with a subtle limp he hadn't noticed before.

Hosea walked toward his tent or the forest; he wasn't sure. He walked with the wind on his back: the brisk whispering of ghosts and secrets from yesteryear.

"Forgive me, Bessie." He whispered.

* * *

The very next day a weathered blonde man returned to camp with a mare white as snow. Aiden recognized the angelic beast immediately.

_The only one in this world. ___

_"Though you might need a...a horse for...you know," Arthur mumbled with his eyes cast over by his hat. "Found her around the stables in uh, Valentine. Yes, Valentine. Bought her for ya, wasn't too much trouble." The older man blushed when Aiden took off his hat, stripping away his flimsy shield of sorts._

The newcomer peered into his blue eyes and saw exactly the look Hosea told him about. 

That night they kissed for the first time. 

* * *

Aiden released his death grip on Arthur's jacket as he was jolted back to the present, sighing that he had not awoken the man. He looked over his shoulder and saw the slender, black-haired man still sitting by the water bobbing and tapping seemingly without a care in the world. Then he looked back down on his sleeping love.

__

_Fuck me. It all makes sense now._

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After several tries, I think I'm finally somewhat happy with this chapter. Pt.2 is mainly going down memory lane to enrich the premise of the events, I guess. 
> 
> Writing for Hosea really refreshed my creativity for this story and I'm glad I got to write someone other than the leading trio. I guess it really makes it feel like a more serious story with a larger cast than a typical CanonxOC romance fic (Which isn't a bad thing, I just wanted to offer more stuff.) 
> 
> I really hope the implications and the mood of the scene came through. Hosea is struggling with the past, just like most people in camp. But he is carrying a secret much heavier than most if you see where this is going. Not to mention the magnitude of devastation if this secret is brought to light, so there's some extra anxiety not just for the past but the future as well.
> 
> I do think he believes in God in a way, he feels like he has to, really. At least brings him a little bit of comfort to think that things happen for a reason that's not entirely his fault.


	13. The Warm Cloak of Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Marston has a nightmare. Aiden already knows what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by the amazingly talented writer @Silverblind. Thanks hon, I really appreciate it!
> 
> Whew, after another very long wait on your part, I am finally back with another chapter. Since it has been so trudgingly slow for me to write new chapters, I've decided to shorten each chapter to about half the length as before in order to update more frequently. 
> 
> I think on one hand it is because it's been a few months since I've last sat down to seriously play RDR2 and the voices of the characters are becoming distant to me. I've recently started a fresh game and have been playing in bits regularly, so I think it's coming back. 
> 
> Also this goddess named Sheila St Maria took months to screenshot all the possible journal entries and processed them to make them print ready, I've been flipping through them on my iPad and it has really fleshed out Arthur's voice for me. Go check out her website 
> 
> https://www.sheilastmaria.com/arthurmorgan
> 
> Lastly, as with all fandoms, traffic naturally begins to fade the further back a game has launched and I guess being the vain cunt that I am, the lack of comments really got to me and tickled my insecurities. I'm really trying to not let it bother me! But sometimes, I feel like it's hard to continue writing out of love when I'm unsure if there's anyone out there to share it with. 
> 
> I hope you'd understand I'm not just speaking for myself, whatever fandom you're into, whoever's story you read, always remember that it is written purely out of love! Leave a comment, say anything. Paste your favorite quote in the chapter, say something silly, say something thirsty, make some suggestions, make some requests. It's all worth more than a thousand kudos to us writers!
> 
> Again, thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Holden

Boot heels clicked slowly on the creaky wood porch. 

_Click clack click clack _.__

__The humid mid-summer breeze weaved through his hair and down his spine - he shivered. The hand he had wrapped around the oversized revolver tightened its shaky grip; slender fingers squeezing until the knuckles blanched white. He extended his other hand, patting around the darkness like a blind man when, in fact, he could see perfectly well, for he had spent most his life running in the dark, from the warm cloak of one shadow to another._ _

__After a few moments, he reluctantly wrapped his hand around the dented copper doorknob before turning it. The aging wood door shrieked from the disturbance, making the young man cringe._ _

___Click clack ____ _

____He looked around the room; half a pie sat on the counter near a faded basin, crumbs scattered about. The smell of Apple and cooked meat permeated the air; to the young man's sharp nose, the homestead smelled...happy._ _ _ _

____His wolf-like eyes turned to the partition separating the small kitchen from the bed and softened. There they were._ _ _ _

_____Click......clack. ____ _ _ _

______He crept toward the half-obscured bed - the muffled figure hummed and shifted. He froze in place._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Click. ____ _ _ _ _ _

________He took another step toward the bed and saw a woman. Her brown hair flowed from a loosening bun and ran down the edge of the pillow. She had a familiar face, pretty, in an ordinary way. The young man thought he recognized her but knew he, in fact, did not. He paused for a moment, thinking about the woman that this stranger reminded him of. He thought of the thick accent and her disapproving gape. The years of back and forth, and the look of ultimate disappointment on his brother's face when the disapproving woman left him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The bitter memories helped chase away a slice of guilt for what he was about to do, and he grabbed a long towel hanging from a nearby nail before approaching._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________His heart thumped like a dying rabbit’s as he gingerly sat down beside her, quiet like a fire; in awe of just how familiar this face was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Finally, he reached for her, and she opened her eyes. The woman gasped before slender fingers clamped around her mouth, and she clawed for her life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________For a moment in her panic, a beam of silver moonlight shone through a crack in the roof and onto her face. The young man almost lost his grip when he saw them. Two pools of ocean blue staring wildly at him, begging and confused. His grip loosened but for a moment before tightening again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He brutally jerked the woman toward him and quickly looped the towel around her neck. He tried to picture the familiar woman in his mind as the stranger kicked and grabbed at his face, her streams of tears burning his fingers as she made a terrible sound no human should be able to make._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He tried so hard to picture that woman he hated as he drew the towel tighter with his crossed arms. But all he could see were blue eyes. It felt like he was murdering someone else. Someone he loved; he started crying too._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Slowly, the struggling melted into an increasingly distant twitch, the awful gagging sound fading as well. Finally, it stopped. All was quiet except for the beating of a broken heart. The young man looked down in horror to see her tongue lolled out; her face was blue, and her eyes were red, staring right at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It was not over._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He searched briefly before he found another, smaller shape shifting under the sheets. It was a boy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He choked back sobs as he lifted away the sheets. Sounds finally escaping him when the silver moonlight shone again. Through his tearing eyes, the boy's messy blonde hair gave a spectral glow._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The boy also opened his eyes when the young man reached for him, towel in hand. His eyes were also blue._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Ocean blue, like the waters of paradise. Flecks of green glimmered like rolling mountains covered in trees._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _ _ _

________John Marston jerked awake with a kick, his hands clawing at his throat, at a rope or a towel, he could already no longer remember.  
"God damn it." He breathed as he sat up, the feverish thrashing of bass guitars faded into the silent night as he pulled out his half lodged earbuds. He walked toward the extinguished fire, wiping the moisture off his forehead._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He plopped to the ground and wondered why he ever got up. Maybe he expected the comfort of his brothers. No–that's not him, he's not a whimpering boy who needs to be comforted. Not anymore, at least. Besides, Arthur and Aiden wouldn't understand anyway._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Sounded like you were having a bad dream." Aiden's voice interrupted his thoughts._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Huh?" Marston grunted, his voice sandier than usual. The young man in front of him looked like he'd been there a while, Arthur still knocked out on his lap. "I suppose you can say that."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Wanna talk about it?" Aiden asked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"It's nothin', just some stupid dream," Marston mumbled as he reached for Arthur's percolator, strewn on the ground when the drunken man tumbled from his horse, marking the trio's campsite for the night in a slump._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The scar-faced man poured water from his skin as he fought to hide the unease from Aiden's probing gaze._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"What are you doing, John?" The younger man suddenly asked. Marston jerked back as if Aiden had swiped at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"What's it look like? I'm makin' coffee, don't feel like sleepin' no more." Marston growled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"You sure? You just put dirt in the pot." Aiden pointed with a frown._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"What?" Marston looked down to see his fistful of earth slipping through his fingers where coffee grounds were just a second ago. "Shit, fuck," The man grumbled angrily to himself as he splashed the contents of the percolator onto a nearby bush._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I'm gonna go rinse out the damn pot," Marston said to no one in particular as he shambled upright, so deep in thought that Aiden could almost see the jelly-like distortion buzzing around his head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Marston froze still when a hand caught his own as he passed by the younger man. Aiden gently held him by his wrist, rubbing slow circles with his thumb._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Dreams aren't real, you know?" Aiden looked up and said._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Yeah, of course..." John Marston sighed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The cicadas had drifted asleep from the lateness of the hour while the men sat in a peculiar silence. Each in their own thoughts, thinking about the same horrible thing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________You seem to be doing a lot of thinking lately,_ One of them said aloud, or perhaps they both did. Maybe no one said a thing, and it was just their disturbed unconscious rifling for some reprieve from the silence. Marston's eyes darted from Aiden’s to the ground and back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I saw Micah–" "So–"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Marston cleared his throat awkwardly, "Shoot."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"No, you first." Aiden said._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Jesus, would you just-” John huffed irately._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I saw Micah in the Strawberry jail yesterday," Aiden blurted._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Why the hell didn't you say anything? The way I know Dutch, he'll be steamin' out his ears if we don't save his sorry ass." Marston said without heat or conviction. The mental image of his smug face turning blue as he gagged to death didn't exactly inspire tears._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"We're not rescuing Micah - if anything, we need to make sure he gets hanged. He's the reason most of the gang dies." Aiden replied impatiently, trying to arrive at his point._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Shit, I knew he was a rat..." John mumbled, voice absent and suspended; his eyes fixed to Aiden's, sensing he had something more important to say._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Micah told me a story; it was probably just a lie, since that's all he does. But–"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"What are you tryin' to get at, little man?" Marston couldn't help but interrupt, tugging at his neckerchief to hide his nervous swallowing– Aiden was never one to talk in circles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Well...You know how for some reason Dutch really likes Micah? So I thought it might not be so crazy that Dutch would tell him something like this,"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________" _Aiden._ " Marston said brusquely. His hand holding the coffee cup slacked, its contents pouring out in a hairline streak, dripping on to the ground. Neither men noticed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Suddenly this all felt like the worst idea ever. To bring up something like this. It was so outlandish it couldn't possibly be true. To his memory of the game, no one in camp even knew about Eliza and Isaac._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Micah told me this crazy story about these... two people," Aiden's voice was barely above a whisper. "A mother and her child."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The flash of horrific recognition in Marston's eyes was all the confirmation Aiden needed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________That night John Marston did something he never thought he would...not again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He begged._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	14. Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hosea tells Aiden a story about three fathers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by @SilverBlind. Def go check out her stories, which are much better written than my own.
> 
> For the first time in months since I started this story I've finally been able to keep my 1 week per chapter schedule! YAY!
> 
> I'm gonna celebrate by taking a 1 month hiatus (Just kidding please don't leave.)
> 
> I think writing this chapter gave me a lot of room to fill in blanks of the original trio's past. Writing dialogue for Hosea is also refreshing and I plan on having chapters focusing on Aiden's interactions with other camp members, written in their perspectives. it breathed new life into this story for me.
> 
> This is a plot-driven story, I have said it many times already. But I feel like saying it again, maybe just for myself. There is definitely romance between our main characters, but I don't want it to be a story of just romance. I am trying to be a writer that can develop complex plots with multiple storylines. And I gotta keep reminding myself not to box into the typical fanfic formula.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Remember comments keep my writer boner going!
> 
> Holden

Chapter 14: Fathers

The humid air weighed oppressively on the gang; no one showed it, but everyone felt it as they went along their day, washing clothes and chopping carrots. Mary-Beth sat under a tree, gazing sorrowfully at the gray sky as she set down her novel.

"There you are," A frayed voice sounded from the side as the returning trio emerged from the edge of the forest heading into camp. 

"Storm's rollin' in, you boys best get yourselves under some cover." The voice called.

Aiden split off from the group just as Hosea rounded the corner of his tent, pausing to let John and Arthur continue on, lugging their loaded saddles.

"Excuse me," Marston grunted as he trudged past between the two, causing Aiden to flinch, just a bit too hard to ignore.

The old man missed nothing, and Aiden cringes at his never-changing, knowing gaze. Hosea's watery eyes reminded him of a bottomless well; one that no pail can ever hope to empty of the secrets that run within.

"You've been gone a few days; I was getting worried the wolves might've gotten you. Thought they might have fancied another piece of _John_." The con man raised his voice at the end of his sentence, chuckling.

"Right comedian you are, Hosea." Marston drawled out as he walked without turning back.

"How was your adventure, son?" He turned his attention back to the newcomer, who was swaying slightly in front of him.

"It was a blast," Aiden shrugged, his words mismatching his tone. "captured a bounty, had an army of O'Driscolls try to steal said bounty, got shot in the arm," Aiden waved the lightly grazed arm; not really a real gunshot wound to show for his bravery and prowess, but it sure as hell had to count for something. "...and some other stuff." His tone lowered almost imperceptibly, or so he thought.

To Hosea, the change was clear as day. "And am I right in assuming the 'other stuff' is nagging you?" He said as he seamlessly guided the lanky man toward the boulder by the cliff; the one the gang had come to call the Whispering Rock. Most days Dutch sat on the flat stone with Hosea by his side as they spoke under the sunset. But it seemed that, nowadays, Micah was more often seen doing the whispering

Aiden followed quietly, chewing over what he might say when he crossed the impossible distance to reach the Rock. He glanced toward Hosea, with his hands behind his back and jaunty tune wafting from his lips. But then, perhaps the stormy colors of Aiden's own thoughts led him to see that there was an aching, just beneath Hosea's uncharacteristically light stroll– the old man had been complaining about his hips for as long as Aiden had known him.

"Now what is it, son? Judging by the way you and Arthur dragged yourselves back all down in the dumps...Having some trouble in paradise?" Hosea chuckled and nudged the young man's elbow, who replied with a thin smile.

"Seems everyone needs a shoulder to cry on these days; John coming in the morning to cavil about Abigail, and the poor girl coming at dusk to cry about John– Not that I'm complaining, mind you. If old age has given me anything besides a sore hip, it's bein' a good listener. Lord knows I miss the keen sting of young love."

Aiden sagged slightly sitting on the rock, rubbing his fingers together, eyes afar into the gathering storm. The air felt unnaturally heavy, reminding him of home, the soot and smoke from endless mountain fires that burned year-round.

Sensing Aiden's hesitance, Hosea scooted closer, clamping his hand around the youngster’s curled in shoulders with assuring pressure. He leaned in and said: "And just between the two of us, Bill's come creeping on by a couple times asking about _Kieran_."

Aiden's eyes flicked toward Hosea as his ears perked up slightly, the senior man didn't miss the fleeting glimmer of delight, and the pair shared a quiet laugh.

After the air of muted humor had settled, Aiden cleared his throat, trying to think of any reason to further delay the conversation that he had started.

"Actually...well..." He cleared his throat once more.

"Go on son, has Arthur been unkind? If that’s the case, I’ll set him straight for you." Hosea encouraged.

"No, no it's not–" He stammered, now too deep to pull away; he sighed heavily. "It's about John, actually...I talked to him last night–" He peeked at Hosea, measuring the man's soft smile, signaling him to continue. "–about Eliza and Isaac."

Hosea's smile snapped stone-still in an instant, just as Aiden had anticipated– dreaded,really. He took in a shaky breath as he closed his eyes, avoiding the paralyzing shock and guilt that must have been raining down on Hosea; his lips pursed tight into a thin line.

Receiving no reply, Aiden thrummed the rock's rough surface; the task of scraping off the moss with his nails becoming of paramount importance as the silence dragged on. He could only steal cursory glances at Hosea's wrinkled hands with veins snaking underneath the translucent skin, like limbs of a dead oak tree, patiently waiting for the next storm to return it to the earth; He quietly watched those hands balling into fists until they trembled, then unwinding until each frail finger clawed into his thigh. 

He dared not look at Hosea, at how the older man's mouth hung open as his watery eyes stared into the coming darkness.

_Tick tock tick tock._

"Did...did John tell you this?" Hosea finally spoke, his voice even and flat.

Keeping his eyes on his fingers and the moss beneath them, Aiden spoke. "No," he breathed, finally gathering the courage to steal a glance at Hosea's face. "He didn't have to." 

"It- it was Micah, I saw him in the jail at Strawberry. He said–" Aiden said.

"Does Arthur know?" Hosea interrupted, his voice curling up just enough to make it a question, devoid of malice, of panic or curiosity.

"No!" Aiden cleared his throat for a third time, his face turning red from holding his breath. "No, I didn't tell him. I couldn't...not yet at least."

Hosea rested his hand on Aiden's thigh, prompting him to look up. "Son, listen, this can never–"

"–I just need to know, I need to know when it happened, how it happened, whose idea it was." Aiden let out in one exhale. His breath was becoming uneven. " _I have to know why._ "

"Son... _please_ ," Hosea whispered; John Marston had the same look on his face last night, a look forever seared into Aiden's memory. "We'll burn in hell for what we did, Dutch and I. But Arthur can't know. I'll come clean with everything, just...promise you won't tell Arthur. It’ll destroy him; it’ll destroy us all."

"Hosea, that's not fair," Aiden replied, gentle as he could. The first drop of rain landed on his shoulder, a speck of grey spread across the fabric of his white shirt, clinging to the skin beneath. It felt like an icy needle burrowing into his flesh; no rain had ever felt so cold before.

Hosea Matthews exhaled heavily through his nose and nodded. _I understand._

"It was a lifetime ago," He sighed. "Long before we started calling ourselves a gang. It was just us three, the curious couple, and their unruly son. Dutch and I brought young Arthur off the streets and raised him like he was our own." He talked as if he could see the memory rolling across the turbulent skies, the boy's grime-caked face glaring up at him, blue eyes burning with defiance. 

"In the beginning, there weren't no robbing, no goose chase for repose in virgin forests with wagons of justly taken treasures by our side; No, there was just us, trying to teach our son what was what, trying to make an honest living near civilization. Trying to be _normal_. Even _I_ still had dreams back then." He paused as his weak chuckle descended into a wheezing cough. "I was a stage actor. Not a very good one, I was told my voice was too tinny, my face too stiff. Work was hard to come by and paid in dimes. ." Hosea shook his head with a smile. Dutch was... well, Dutch was Dutch. He always wanted better, even when we had nothing. We'd sit around a fire at night with empty bellies and listen to him talk about California, about Yosemite, an' how if we could just save up some money, we'd buy ourselves a plot of land in paradise and live happily ever after.” The old con man shook his head with a smile.

"But young Arthur, he was growing strong as a bull, took on whatever work he could find; hauling, ranching, mining, you name it, and he'd do it. He never complained once." Hosea spoke slowly and with reverence, sparse drops of water landed on his face, perilously close to his eyes, but he didn't flinch, didn't blink. 

"Hell, more times than not, Arthur was the one putting food on the table; took care of all of us, he did. Damn near worked himself to death. Because of him, we no longer went to bed hungry, we had a roof above our heads, but still, it wasn't enough. A part of me already knew back then that it would _never_ be enough. Not for dreamers like Dutch, anyway. He always pushed the boy for more." He paused, the brief silence tugging Aiden from his mesmerization, and he sensed the mood had changed.

"Then one day, Dutch came back with a stack of cash, about a whole inch thick and smelled freshly printed. We've never seen so much money in our damn lives! We was so busy drinking ourselves silly that no one bothered to ask where it even came from! Dutch never told us, but we knew how it was." Hosea slowly reached out his hand, turning it, studying as he let the light drizzle shower over it.

"We could've bought that land in Yosemite right then and there with spare to build ourselves a cabin with fine furniture." He scoffed. "But old Dutch, he kept dreaming bigger. We used up all the money buyin' guns. Guns! At night we'd still sit around the fire, listening to Dutch. He started talking less about the cabin waiting for us in California and more about Uncle Sam and banks and railroads, about the oil barons and steel giants, the whole lot. He lit a fire in our eyes. I weren’t exactly young, but I sure was stupid. Soon enough Dutch and Arthur were wanted in three states for robbery and murder; While I took on a...different kind of acting– a dying mother in New York, a booming gold mine out in Oregon or some German Kaiser with an inheritance need collectin' for a small fee of fifty dollars.” He laughed.

“Life was real good. Dutch kept reminding us that what we were doing was just, that we were better people, making the world a better place. His dream became ours; we needed it to be. It kept us alive just as much as food and water; because without it, we would be no more than petty thieves and murderers." The rain now more than a drizzle, came in a steady rhythm, swaying with the wind like beaded curtains.

"Then came along young John, a wilder delinquent you've never seen. We saved him from a bunch of angry peasants wanting to hang him for stealing a loaf of bread. He grabbed a gun and shot one of 'em right in the face as soon as he got free. Dutch was manic, called him a _prodigy_ , he did. He sold him on our mission faster than he sold us. Arthur and I both saw that same fire in John's eyes, only...it wasn't quite what we remembered it to be. But we went along because we knew Dutch would never steer us wrong. Arthur adored his little brother, and John stuck to him like gum on a shoe, learned everything from Arthur twice as fast, 'S why we call him the _golden boy_. The pair was so thick they might as well have been wearing the same pair of trousers. Hosea paused to catch his breath, swiping his tongue across his chapped lips. For a moment he seemed lost in thought, then he suddenly resumed, giving Aiden a start. 

"After that came sweet Anabelle and Bessie, god bless their souls. And Arthur started courting a girl as well. Mary Gillis her name was." 

Aiden nodded briskly, hair slipping over his shoulders. 

"Those were the good ol' days, the sweetest time of our lives, I reckon. All of us young and in love. We were a proper gang then, out making a name for ourselves. We felt like heroes, we did; The mighty Van Der Linde Gang, taking from the rich and giving to the poor. But that didn't last long. Nothing involving killing and robbing ever did, no matter what we called it. One way or another, we all paid our dues..." Hosea trailed of again.

“Some days it feels like we still are.”

"Then came the hard times, real bitter times, they were. Mary Gillis married off to some far away feller and left poor Arthur with scarcely a farewell, none of us knew what to do. None of us have seen Arthur that way. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink, wouldn't talk. He was...we really thought he might’ve stopped breathing altogether. In the end, it was John who snapped him out of it. I reckon if it weren't for the whole business with Mary Gillis, Arthur and John might've...you know."

Aiden nodded slowly.

"Anyway, after a few years, all of a sudden Arthur started disappearing– ten, twenty days at a time. Wouldn't tell no one where he went. Dutch was furious that his top gun wasn't by his side for a few small jobs. Although I think he had an inkling of what's going on. Arthur was smiling again, and Dutch wasn't. I think, to him, it felt like a betrayal. Like his top gun was being stolen from him. To make matters worse, Dutch went and shot Collin O'Driscoll over forty dollars in some farm town general store. Truth be told, we were the ones who started this feud. But that don't excuse what that animal Colm O’Driscoll and his jackals did to Anabelle, what they did to all of us when they raided our camp. _The day Arthur wasn't there_. I'll never forget the way Dutch looked at Arthur when he came riding back, with a string of flowers in his hair." 

Aiden parted his lips in realization, but no sound came from his dry throat. He swallowed, compelled to find something– anything, to say. 

"And Bessie?"

"No, that was later."

The old man brushed away the wet hair dangling before his eyes with an idle hand. The rain twisted and turned, but no thunder cracked open the skies. Just rain. Thrumming in deafening silence.

"We lost everything that day — not just our money and our loves– our spirits; Then we lost our souls too that very night, the three of us in Dutch’s tent. And I don't even know _why_. Not anymore."


	15. Ain't No Side-hoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Aiden cuddles up during the storm. The gruff outlaw has a request for his lover.

Aiden trudged past the camp's beloved makeshift table: a thin, round piece of scrap wood nailed on top of an emptied powder keg. The wayward programmer had always thought there was a metaphor somewhere to be found in this table, but could never figure out what it was. Oblivious to the rain pelting down in a sideways monsoon, threatening to drown the birds in their trees, he kept trudging, too tired to crack at the elusive poetry of the furniture.

"Hey," He quipped as he poked his head into Arthur's space, which now looked like a proper tent since the last storm hit, signaling the changing of seasons.

"Hey," Arthur answered back with a cigarette hanging from his lips, nodding his permission to enter. His tone was lighter now that he was snuggled up in his private space. The outlaw snapped his journal shut around the pencil and tossed it aside on the improvised nightstand comprised of empty whiskey crates that the camp churned out like a factory line.

 _No thanks to Sean and Karen._

Aiden put on an insipid smile as he stepped into the candlelit warmth. The rowdy couple’s drunken laughter pierced through even the mightiest of storms.

The blonde man was already on his feet, reaching down to rifle through the chest by his cot. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes," 

"Hey!" The young man protested when his vision was suddenly obscured, his mood instantly lifting. Just as soon as he snatched off the dangling blue shirt, another piece of clothing flew onto his head. "Arthur, the fuck you doing?" 

"Quit whining an' come help me find you a towel." Arthur said gruffly, with the shade of a snicker in his voice.

Aiden huffed, but approached all the same, "I'm fine, Arthur, it's not like we don't have rain in the future."

"No, you ain't." The blonde man interjected as he fished out the towel, which in reality was no more than a rag, barely recognizable as a shirt if not for the wildly faded red grey stripes. "You're liable to get sick if you stay in those clothes." He said as he ruffled Aiden's wet hair with the rag. 

"we can't have that now can we, princess?"

"Shut up," Aiden sagged slightly as he let his companion dry him, the always-present urge to say something snarky drifting further and further away. "What a gentleman," He managed between purrs of contentment.

"Sure, I'm a regular charmer– there, that's better." The outlaw said as he carded his fingers through the other's hair, longer and slower than he needed to assess his work, humming with satisfaction as he held the back of his head and leaned in for a light kiss.

"Now strip."

"Huh?" Aiden cracked open his eyes in confusion.

"Now what did I say about those wet clothes, kid?" Arthur teased, his hands already getting to work unbuttoning the waterlogged shirt.

"Hey, I literally _just_ called you a gentleman." Aiden laughed as he stroked the outlaw's forearms, feeling the muscles beneath shift and flex as his nimble fingers undid each button.

"You know damn well what I am, boy." Arthur replied as he finished off the last button and turned Aiden around, peeling off the white shirt. The programmer relaxed and let Arthur work at putting his limp arms in the sleeves of the blue shirt as if the man was dressing a ragdoll. For some reason, Arthur still refused to admit that taking care of others soothed him, but he didn't have to, because Aiden knew. Perhaps that's why they had gotten together; Perhaps it is human nature to hope that others would know something about us that we do not.

The pair crammed on top of each other after Arthur let the younger man change out of his trousers, shifting and turning for a moment to get comfortable. Arthur ended up laying his head on Aiden's belly, humming a tuneless tune as the young man propped a pillow behind his head, against the wooden panel of the wagon while carefully avoiding the monochrome picture of Lyle Morgan tacked to its surface.

"Feelin' better?" Aiden quipped, a bit too keen to shatter the comfortable silence; comfortable for Arthur at least.

The time-traveler felt the body on top of his own go stiff for a split-second, then followed by a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I was...you didn't deserve that."

"So it's "darling' now, huh?" Aiden hummed, content to drink in Arthur chagrined expression, just for a moment. "I'm just joking, cowboy! You know I'm not mad at you; you know you can tell me anything. I know I make the future sound like a pen of puppies, but it's not. Fucked up things happen there too, seriously fucked up things. They're just...I don't know, better hidden, I guess." The young man tilted his head as he hand combed through Arthur's blonde locks absently.

"My point is, you don't have to protect my innocence, cause God knows that already went out the window. You can trust me with anything." Aiden said.

"It's not–" Arthur mumbled.

"Did you kill someone you're not supposed to?" Aiden asked, his imagination already running rampant.

"No–" Arthur blinked.

"Did you find a decapitated corpse strung up beneath the bridge outside of Valentine? The one with 'look upon my works' written in blood next to it?" Aiden said, already combing through his memory files of the game; specifically, the subfolder titled ‘VERY FUCKED UP, DO NOT OPEN.’

"What? No," Alarmed by the specificity, Arthur lifted his head to look at Aiden, but the younger man pressed him back down unthinkingly, his eyes boring through the canvas.

"Oh god, please tell me you didn't run into that fat fuck living with his sister. They're close, like, really close." He said as he jabbed a forefinger into his other fist in an obscene gesture, still comically unaware of Arthur's bewilderment. "Not to mention they drug the shit out of you and toss you in their murder pit."

Resigned in silence, Arthur made a mental note to ask for the specifics of these hornet nests later instead of trying to interrupt Aiden's chattering bout.

"No? Okay, did you find that underground brothel in–"

"Aiden." Arthur enunciated. 

Aiden snapped close the overflowing folder in his head and looked down at the finger jabbing his ribcage to find a crumpled ball of paper peeking through the outlaw's calloused hand.

"What's this?" He uttered as if he didn't recognize the cream-colored envelope that's been eating at him the past few days.

The man on his lap gave no answer other than gently poking him again with his knuckles, unfurling as Aiden reached for the ball.

_Oh boy._

The young man inhaled deeply as he flattened the envelope, the slightly unpracticed cursive read 'Arthur Morgan,' a dangerous thing to write for outlaws whose real names are the equivalent of their social security numbers.

Carefully slipping out the parchment inside, Aiden's eyes leaped straight to the bottom,

_Sincerely yours, Mary Gillis_

Feeling Arthur's blue eyes fixed on his own, Aiden tried to conceal his irritation, though he suspected that he had already failed. The newcomer liked to believe that he was too smart to be jealous of a woman that had left Arthur more than a decade ago. He wanted to believe that he was angry instead, angry that Mary could wound Arthur so profoundly and yet he still kept her photograph at his bedside, right beside the picture of Beatrice Morgan, a mother that he wanted to love but never had.

"You met her out in Valentine already?" 

Arthur nodded.

"I'm guessing you agreed to go look for her brother, cause if you refused, you might not see her again." Aiden said without reading the letter, careful not to sound resentful. "Jimmy or whatever his name is, he's joined up with that weird turtle cult. You'll find him on a mountain–"

The programmer was cut off by Arthur's shuffling as the man sat up with his back against the wagon and pulled him close, holding onto his own forearms as if he was afraid Aiden might get up and walk back out into the storm, never to be seen again.

"It ain't that... I've already found Jamie with the...turtle monks and whatnot. Mary...well she asked me for some money, _a lot_ of money, really." Arthur's voice dropped to a low whisper, chock full with shame.

The notion made Aiden scoff, "That's just ridiculous. The nerve on that bitch blows my mind. I mean the money part wasn't even in the game– you don't owe her shit, Arthur. She used you back then, and she's using you now." Aiden fumed. “Please tell me you didn't go robbing randoms for Mary."

A tense silence took over the tent as they held each other, both wondering what to say next. 

The silence was all the confirmation they need.

"It ain't for her," Arthur squeaked, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, it was stupid of me to bring it up."

"No, no, I'm not mad at you at all. _I' m_ sorry that I lost my shit for a second." Aiden said quickly, sensing that Arthur was on the verge of clamming up. "I'm just...I'm just mad at Mary, I guess. She shouldn't have come to you." Aiden said. He knew all along that this letter would come; it was merely an inevitable part of the story. 

"Go on."

Arthur's throat bobbed noticeably against the back of his companion's head. "Her feller just died, pneumonia, she said, if you didn't already know. Bad business." It was hard to gauge Aiden's reaction when he couldn't see his face, so he simply rested his chin on the newcomer's head. "He was a gambler, owed a lot of money to some gang in their parts. Now that he's gone, they've been comin' to her for the money. Trust me, I know what that’s like."

 _But that’s still not your problem._ Arthur could almost hear Aiden say just from the way he sighed.

"Problem is, she's got three kids now." Arthur probed.

"What?" Aiden recoiled against the outlaw's chest.

"Yeah, and she's pregnant right now."

" _Jesus fucking Christ._ " Aiden cursed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, the space in the tent too small for a private comment.

"I just couldn't..." Arthur sighed heavily, stopping for a moment to compose himself. "I look at her kids, and it got me thinkin' about my ma, that maybe it might make up for some of the evil I've done."

"You're not evil, Arthur." Aiden corrected, his back sagged against the warm body behind as he laid his head on Arthur's shoulder to look him in the face. "What can I do to help?"

The blonde man looked away, "I camped out by a road and robbed whatever came by on wheels, like some rabid dog. I… I even killed a few folks, innocent folks. All for a couple dozen bills." He sighed for a third time, each warier than the last. "I feel so ashamed. I was trying to do somethin' good an' instead I end up hurting more people. I always do."

Silence.

"Now you ain't gotta do nothin' you don't wanna, you hear me?" His harsh, self-loathing tone softened as soon as he began talking to Aiden. "Now I know what you said about messin’ with time and all that, an’ I believe you! But I wouldn't ask you if there was any other way. I swear it, Aiden. I–"

Aiden shushed him, peppering soft kisses on his tanned forearms. "The doctor in Valentine is running a prostitution ring in the back room. There's a lot of money in there." 

Fuck consequences, the twinkle in the outlaw's tired eyes made anything worth it.

"Thank you, sweetheart." Arthur rumbled as he pressed his nose into the mop of black hair beneath his chin. "I promise this is the last time."

"You don't have to promise me anything." Aiden smiled weakly. He wasn't lying, but it was also not lost on him, the potential catastrophes of playing messiah.

"I do." Arthur said sternly. "I love you, and only you. This'll be the last time I help Mary." He continued as he flicked Mary's picture off the nightstand. The glass and metal frame clinked and splashed as it tumbled into the rain, out of sight.

The programmer giggled, the gesture reminded him of a teenage boy unfollowing other girls on social media as proof of his loyalty.

"What's so funny, boy?" The older man growled as he caught on the change in the atmosphere.

"Nothing– hey!" Aiden gasped as he felt a hand snake under his loosely buttoned shirt, giving one of his buds a hard pinch. "You're seriously gonna bribe me with sex? Nice try, cowboy, but that totally would work." The youngster arched his back slightly when the hand in his shirt gave no indication of stopping.

"Hm. And what if I am? I've got you right where I want anyway." He voice rumbled low like an idling engine.

"Oh shit," Aiden laughed as he tried to break free. But Arthur squeezed his lover back against his chest, his legs snapping around Aiden's to further trap him in.

Aiden laughing hitched when another hand forced past his waistband.

"Ain't so funny now, are ya, boy?" Arthur growled against Aiden's ear as he grasped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late guys, I know I've been on a roll with keeping my Sunday posting schedule lately. I've got family visiting and it's just been a stressful mess all around. This week our protagonists are taking a moment to be tender with each other after a horrible few days on the road. Aiden realizing the harmony in camp is balanced on a dark secret. Arthur getting pulled back into a bad place because of Mary and the resurfacing guilt for John as he feels like he's on death row, just waiting for Arthur to execute him if Aiden decides to snitch.
> 
> all around, it's tense in camp. and I'd like to have some fluff and smut to get ya'll lubed up for it.
> 
> I'm also working on a werewolf/ABO fic, the first chapter is done and posting soon. Hope ya'll are ready for some gore and monster fuckin.
> 
> As always, I love the kudos, but comments really make my day. Say something silly, say something random. Anything is good!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Holden


	16. Nice Going, Arthur.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden shows Arthur how modern bottoms pass the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy I'm on time again. So this week's chapter is pure smut, and it's nasty stuff at that.  
> I imagine Arthur to have always been curious about anal sex and the pleasures thereof, but was impeded by what's 'manly' and 'right'.  
> Being the modern day progressive that is our protagonist Aiden, he's gotta set things straight!  
> I hope y'all enjoy this piece of my depraved mind, because next week, it's back to deteriorating friendships and betrayals.  
>    
> Leave a comment and tell me what you want to happen!

Aiden groaned weakly and sagged against Arthur's broad chest as the man worked his heat through his jeans, murmuring sweet nothings, knowing the effect it had on Aiden when he breathed into his ears. 

The young man let out a sharp hiss when another hand snaked under his shirt and tweaked his sensitive bud, at the same time pressing down to prevent escape. A devious grin blossomed on Arthur's handsome features when Aiden's breath turned shallow and quick, his mouth hanging open in lustful pants. The hand under Aiden's shirt doubled down as it thumbed each perked-up nipple, sending waves of tingling pleasure down his lover’s spine.

"Arthur, Arthur..." The dark-haired man breathed out, his hips instinctively rutting against the rough, calloused source of friction.

"Yes, rabbit, 'm right here," Arthur rumbled, his tongue snaking out and licking sensually along the shell of Aiden's ear, satisfied when Aiden responded with twitching thighs, chest jutting out in delicious resistance. "Wanna show you how much I love you, sweetheart." He paused, his invading tongue advanced deeper, tracing slow, wet circles on Aiden's concha.

"Shit," Aiden said weakly. Every part of his body was now acting on their own accord, each vying for more attention from Arthur's expert ministrations. The hand thumbing and stroking Aiden's heated length kept pace with his orgasm perfectly. Slowing into a torturous swirling underneath the skin covering his leaking tip when the outlaw sensed his lover was right on the teetering edge of oblivion, the gentle friction against the tender inside of his foreskin so, so _very_ close to being enough.

The outlaw chuckled smugly and said, "Wanna thank you for being in my life."

Aiden responded with a dazed stare, his cheeks rosy and glistening from all the heat and arousal. Arthur was certain the pliant man in his embrace was already well beyond comprehension. His practiced hands almost autonomously roamed the body he has come to know better than his own, expertly stimulating every erogenous zone. 

He carried on anyway, "Wanna keep you forever, lil' rabbit. Wanna give you everything you want." He felt Aiden's testicles draw up, a telltale sign of his imminent orgasm. 

"Fucking Christ...Arthur..." Aiden moaned.

"Wanna make you feel so good, baby. Come apart for me now," Arthur whispered. "Cum for me.”

Aiden's mind was blanking in flashes of white as Arthur urged him on. His hips thrusting wildly into the firm, fast strokes. He wanted so badly to give in once more, to let Arthur pleasure him to the end. But he wanted something different this time.

"Arthur, stop!" Aiden mewled. The outlaw's hands snapped away immediately as if the young man's body had turned into hot coal.

The devious, confident rumble in the outlaw's voice gone up in smoke in a blink, replaced by a worry-laden mutter, "Did I hurt you somewhere? 'M sorry–"

"No, no!" Aiden managed, his heart still pounding from being on the brink for so long. Everything in him felt like pudding– except his cock. Arthur kept his hands in the air above Aiden awkwardly as he let his lover catch his breath, waiting until the newbie sluggishly turned over on his knees. His erection pointing at him angrily, a glistening drop of pre-come oozing from the tip. 

"Then what's wrong?" Arthur was questioned.

"I want you in on the fun, it's not fair if only I get off." Aiden said, his solemn expression contrasting comically with his bobbing member.

Arthur smiled shyly, "I told you, sweet pea, watchin' you's all the fun I need."

"Lies." Aiden smiled back. "I remember how loud you were moaning when I took your cock down my warm, wet throat the other day." His choice of wording intentionally lewd, delighting in the instant shade of red that crept upon Arthur's cheeks.

"Jesus Aiden..." Arthur muttered again all mouse-like, his eyes shifty with embarrassment. 

Aiden inched closer, his cock pressing past his lover's unbuttoned shirt, smearing his slick onto the perfectly light smattering of fur there. 

Arthur tensed his belly as if a branding iron was pressed against him. His defined abs revealing themselves under the tension. 

With tables sufficiently turned, Aiden inched closer once more with a smirk on his face. _God, how can this man look so sexy one second then so innocent the next?_

"Darlin, I really don't–" Arthur's nervous chatter was cut off when Aiden jutted his hips forward, his hard cock pressed fully against Arthur's abdomen.

"Ah," Aiden threw his head back in an exaggerated, porn star moan as he fucked the groove between Arthur's abs. His perfectly rounded ass rubbing Arthur's clothed erection with every withdrawal. "Don't think I forgot all the dirty sounds you made when I teased your oozing slit, Mr. I'm-too-sulky-to-have-sex." Aiden teased, reaching down to palm the growing wet spot on Arthur's trousers, forcing out a restrained groan.

"No! I'm not–" 

"Then fuck me," Aiden asserted, his cock peeling off the soaked mess that was Arthur's torso, leaving the muscle glistening with a sheen of sweat and viscous pre-come, flexing invitingly under the candlelight. He sat down on Arthur's lap, now focusing his effort on grinding against the large, girthy member begging to be released.

Arthur grunted against his will, his resistance crumbling as every cell in his body screamed out exactly what he needed to do.

"Don't you want to feel me around you? Feel me squeezing and milking you until you cum inside me. Maybe you'll scream again. Come on, cowboy, it'll feel so good, I promise." Aiden purred.

The arms braced his own to keep him back slacked away as Arthur looked down, his cheeks bright red. 

Taking that as a silent admission, Aiden grinned and hopped off. His slender fingers making quick work of the pesky buttons on Arthur's work pants.

"No underwear, huh?" Aiden teased when Arthur's sheathed erection jumped right out as soon the fabric gave way. A patch of pink flesh on his glans peeked through the folds of skin, already wet with arousal. "Your cock smells so good." Aiden mused aloud, taking a deep whiff along the underside of the shaft, momentarily losing himself in the outlaw's strong, pungent scent. He then pulled the impeding article off completely, Arthur lifting his legs obediently.

"Shu-Shut up..." Arthur gulped, his expression adorably ashamed and needy at once.

The experienced young man wasted no time taking the girthy cock into his mouth, suckling on the sensitive head, giving himself a moment to get used to the thickness, savoring the taste of Arthur.

Arthur's hairy, muscular thighs jumped in shock at the incredible sensation of Aiden's exploring tongue, the powerful muscles beneath his tan skin bulged and flexed in time with Aiden's light bobbing.

The young man sank down slowly, intensely focused as he forced his spasming larynx to remain calm. 

This time Arthur got to witness the whole process sitting up, stimulated beyond his comprehension as he watched inch after inch of his pulsing cock disappear into Aiden's hungry mouth. The gruff outlaw was practically panting like a dog by the time he felt his cock head rub against the wet passage; almost coming instantly when Aiden's beautiful brown eyes flicked up toward him, his pupils blown wide with need. 

Allowing for but a moment of pause, Aiden moaned. The delectable vibration set every nerve ending in Arthur's member on fire– as if that wasn't enough, then came the swallowing; Arthur's pronounced pectorals jumped as he fought to regain control over his body to no avail. His toes curled then stretched, his fingers clawed into his worn sheets, ripping the fabric. The outlaw's thick legs kicked out instinctively, but nothing helped. His singular source of sensation remained firmly on his cock, on how Aiden's throat massaged it with his rippling throat muscles. 

_So wet, so warm._

Arthur gave in, his head lolled back against the wagon as he relented, no longer trying to protect his masculinity. He moaned and squealed, allowing his eyes to roll up when he was assaulted by the next wave of unfamiliar pleasure. He lightly humped against the source of ecstasy like an animal, mere seconds away from a torrential orgasm.

Then, just as quickly as it had incapacitated him, the mind-rending pleasure stopped.

The fearsome outlaw whimpered pathetically, edging on tearful sobs as he lightly tugged on Aiden's long hair. 

"Beg me." Aiden whispered, his eyes fix to Arthur's above him. It was his turn, he thought, after Arthur had broken him so many times, it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

The gruff man whimpered again as his cock twitched, strands of saliva running down the muscular chord on the underside. His slit now a perfect 'O' shape, steadily leaking out copious amounts of slick. 

"Ah ah, nice try." Aiden chided as he caught Arthur's jellied hand reaching toward his member in a subliminal attempt to relieve himself and pressed it firmly against the cot.

Arthur cried, a few salty tears streamed down his face as he struggled, everything he was ever taught screamed for him to resist, to not give up his dignity. 

Sensing that his blockheaded lover needed more convincing, Aiden wickedly teased his tongue up and down along Arthur's shaft, drawing circles so very lightly around his oozing slit, which was now an angry crimson. Peppering kisses and light licks here and there, Aiden posed with nonchalance as he awaited Arthur's answer.

The man's face twisted as if he was in agony, which was in some ways true. He was secretly proud of invisible map of Aiden's body that he had surveyed in his mind over the course of months, proud of how he knew exactly how to pleasure his lover, smug even. Now the outlaw was put in his place humiliatingly when Aiden managed to push all his buttons in one go. The light brushing against his glans reminded him sharply that there was no room in his hazed mind for shame, or any other emotion for that matter. All that mattered in the universe was the burning need to come.

"Please..." He gritted out, his cheeks flushing bright red like a tomato.

"Good boy!" Aiden praised, rewarding him with a firm pass with the flat of his tongue. "Please who?"

Arthur groaned in frustration, regretting all the times he smugly edged Aiden and made him beg. Now Aiden was really gonna push this all the way.

"Please, Aiden, sweetheart." Arthur added, his voice tight as a guitar string.

Having long since come down from the height of his own tettering edge, Aiden was feeling playful. "Go on," he said simply.

Arthur gasped as slender fingers glided effortlessly across his ball sac, the extremely sensitive skin sending shockwaves up his spine. "Please, rabbit," he groaned out, another piece of who he thought he was slipping away when the words left his mouth.

"Say please, sir." the young man bit his lips, holding back a dastardly snicker.

"Please sir, please..." The begging came easier now as Arthur will crumbled, the need for release completely controlling him. 

Aiden rewarded him again with a wave of pleasure, bringing Arthur's receding orgasm back to the very forefront. He felt Arthur's big feet against the side of his thighs as the outlaw spread his legs as wide as he could, presenting, offering. 

Aiden raised a brow, Arthur's body was speaking for itself. 

_Talk about betrayal._

He brushed two fingers against the blonde man's chapped lips, who immediately opened for him. The young man felt himself harden as well as he watched Arthur suck on his fingers like his life depended on it. The man's tongue was surprisingly agile, licking and brushing and tickling his digits, sending a shiver down Aiden's spine. _If Arthur could do this to him with just fingers, how amazing would it feel if those lips were to wrap around something else?_

Determined not to be sidetracked, Aiden filed the thought away for later and withdrew his fingers, which now dripped with Arthur's spit, webbing and clinging as he parted them experimentally.

 _Good._

Arthur whimpered softly as he felt the same fingers that he just unwittingly lubed up press against his hole. Every fiber in his body screamed out how wrong it was, that he was supposed to be on top of Aiden, not the other way around. But all those thoughts were smashed into pieces when the pressure against his virgin hole increased, slowly pushing past the tight ring of muscles protecting it.

Aiden observed his lover closely for any discomfort, but saw nothing but his slacked jaw and bobbing throat as he eased in. Hot flesh clenching around him tightly, but not as resistant as he expected. The young man reached out his other hand and rubbed soothingly against the back of Arthur's neck. Shushing and apologizing quietly whenever the man winced. 

Before either of them was aware, Aiden's middle finger was fully seated inside the outlaw. Then tentatively, he began exploring, rubbing and hooking as he very slowly eased in and out.

Arthur suddenly jolted, his chest jutting out as far as it could as his legs retracted, heels grinding into the mattress with all his might. Aiden smiled and rubbed the protruded spot inside him again. Slowly– torturously. 

"Now, where were we? Oh yeah, you were just begging me for something?" Aiden said casually, ignoring his own pulsing member as Arthur looked at him pleadingly, his eyes welling with tears of pleasure, pupils blown so wide it reminded him of the druggies on the streets of San Francisco. Except this was better than any drug could ever feel.

"Christ...sweetheart, the hell was that?” The word didn’t sound nearly as gruff as he imagined.

“...do that again, please," Arthur quipped quietly.

Aiden rewarded the verbal submission generously, fucking Arthur with a gradually increasing pace, careful to rub firmly against his prostate with every single drag.

"I'm gonna come, Aiden, just a lil' bit more..." Arthur slurred unconsciously. "Yeah, just like that," His hips rolled against Aiden's invading fingers sensually; his leaking cock seemingly forgotten.

"God damn, Aiden, I- I-" The outlaw's mouth opened in a silent scream as his orgasm approached.

Then there was nothing again.

"Aiden!" Arthur sobbed freely, no longer making an effort to keep up a facade of any kind.

"Aw," Aiden said in a tone he would use on a little puppy; part of him felt guilty for making Arthur cry, the other part felt filthy proud that he could. 

The outlaw threw his head against his lover's chest as he sobbed at the deprivation. He didn't try to touch himself again, because he had forgotten he had arms.

"Shhh... it's okay, cowboy. That's enough, I'll let you come now." Aiden whispered tenderly against Arthur's scalp, peppering kisses there. Then he pushed the man back against the wagon.

"Play with yourself, go on," He murmured as he took one of Arthur's big hands and guided toward his leaking hole. A semblance of his normal self caused him to hesitate as he rubbed his entrance with the pad of his middle finger. Aiden helped him as he pushed in, both hesitant and eager at the same time; the slender hand around his own folded his fingers, so that his own thick digit can push further in.

"Now feel around, go on, cowboy, you can do it." Aiden encouraged softly.

Arthur's eyes rolled back briefly as he found his pleasure spot, his masturbating hand going limp momentarily as the wave of pleasure coursed through his muscular frame and he convulsed.

"That's a good boy, doesn't that feel so good?" Aiden cooed as he stood up.

Arthur was too busy working himself toward oblivion to notice the hovering figure above his neglected cock, the brand new type of pleasure taking priority.

Slowly, Aiden eased himself down on Arthur's spit-slicked cock.

Arthur jerked his head straight, "Wait, Aiden, no! I can't-" His protest of cut off by a crushing kiss. His hand had a mind of its own as it found its rhythm, rubbing his prostate at a steady pace, waves of orgasmic pleasure washing so close to each other that they melded into one long tsunami.

Aiden's tightness slowly swallowed more of the outlaw’s cock, well-trained muscles massaged the leaking member every which way. 

The older man hissed, burying his face in the crook of his lover's neck as he was pleasured from both ends. It was too much, far too much. 

"Come for me, Arthur." Aiden said firmly, more commanding than sensual, surprising himself.

Obediently, he came; at the same moment Aiden bottomed out around his cock.

Prepared this time, Aiden clenched his hole tight as he milked out Arthur's doubly intense orgasm, feeling the thick cock pulsing powerfully as it depositing jet after jet of his hot seed inside him.

"Good boy, such a good boy, Arthur," Aiden cooed.

The tent fell unexpectedly quiet when Arthur bit down on his lover's shoulder in the throes of his pleasure, Aiden tensed from the sudden pain, but didn't mind. 

The gunslinger's hand continued to sloppily finger himself as Aiden rolled his hips, prolonging Arthur's orgasm as much as possible.

After an eternity in silence, the member lodged flush against Aiden finally stopped pulsing, and the outlaw sagged.

Aiden yelped as Arthur fell over on his side, taking the shorter man with him, as they were still attached.

"How was that, cowboy?" Aiden laughed.

Arthur rubbed his face against the pillow to get a lock of sweat-drenched hair out of his eyes. He nodded weakly, eyes opening and closing lazily; he heart still pounded in his ears, limbs useless as the flood of chemicals in his brain took its sweet time making an exit.

Laying in content silence, Aiden hummed the tune of a pop song from his high school years. 

"Take...take it this ain't your first time?" Arthur managed breathlessly, his words curved up with an insipid attempt at humor.

"Nope, in the future we got Grindr. The fifth most important invention by mankind." Aiden replied.

Too drained to even bother asking, Arthur simply nodded.

"Wait, you didn't get off o' that, did you?" He said, the most adorable tinge of urgency in his coarse, tired voice.

"I didn't bust a nut, if that's what you mean. But I got off plenty just watching you writhe like a whore after a ten dollar bill." He and Arthur both laughed quietly.

"Fuck me."

"What?"

"I want you to get off, I want you to fuck me." Arthur said again.

Aiden's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Uh...you know that's gonna be different that just fingers..."

Arthur clamped a big paw around Aiden's face and pulled him in for a kiss, his eyes fluttering shut when he almost drifted off.

"I don’t care, I said I want you to fuck me, Aiden." Arthur repeated. But before Aiden could formulate an answer, the man snored.

"Wow, nice going, _Arthur._ " Aiden muttered as he threw his head against the pillow.


	17. Facts, Not Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden introduces Arthur to the IPHONE.

Aiden hummed as he came to, lazily taking his time to bring the world into focus. For a brief moment he thought he was home again, his lights dimmed just so he wasn't submerged in darkness, its warm glow lulling him to sleep again.

A puff of hot breath caressed his neck, and for the first time in a while, he was glad to be wrong. 

The outlaw's face was heartbreakingly tender when he slept, a snapshot of the man he could've have been if he wasn't _this_. A warm tickle tugged him away from his spiral as Arthur groaned softly and nuzzled deeper in the crook of Aiden's neck. 

He was thankful for the interruption, for the ones who jest the most are always most prone to melancholy. Aiden reached the arm beneath his lover's neck to play with the man's hair, the longest strands draping past his cheekbones.

* * *

_"Wait! Don't cut it. It makes you look more rugged and badass,"_

_"Okay...whatever that means." Arthur half-frowned as he put down his scissors. "How long we talkin'?" He added._

_"Maybe my length? That way, we can braid each other's hair." Aiden suggested._

_"Your length?" Arthur said with an air of incredulity. "You can pull it off just fine, lil' princess. But I'd just look like a homeless brute."_

_"Well, good thing we're homeless already," Aiden said as he gestured to the camp. The pair chuckled as they leaned thier foreheads together._

_"Alright then, I'll risk my neck with Ms. Grimshaw, jus' for you. See the things you make me do, boy?"_

* * *

"Where'd you go?" Arthur said sleepily with his eyes still closed.

"Just wandering around in my head," Aiden replied.

"Hm. What time is it?" Arthur asked.

"Don't know, looks around midnight," Aiden said, extending an arm to hold up the fabric of the tent and gave the quiet camp a once-over. 

Arthur hummed again, then after a deep inhale, propped himself on one arm. "Somethin' bothering you?"

"What do you mean?" Aiden replied, he supposed it was just his nature to deflect, part of him might never let his guard down.

"Don't be coy now," Arthur drawled, his fingers tracing the curves of Aiden's face now. "It ain't too hard to tell when something's on your mind, on account that you rarely go two minutes without talkin'."

Aiden smiled faintly. Arthur was talking about the silent ride back. Aiden's mind was already at work weaving up a plausible lie, the cogs in his defenses built throughout his life were well-oiled, always ready and never faltering.

"It's nothing," Aiden said, a cog in his machinery cracked and was spat out by the others.

"Okay," Arthur said. "Well, I'm always here if you wanna talk about it." His hand slid down the dip on Aiden's waist.

"In the meantime, perhaps there something we can do to clear your mind?"

Aiden's eyes widened in alarm, a suspicious shade of crimson crept on his cheek. "What are you doing." He said, catching the groping hand beneath the sheets.

"Well, wha's that you said the other day..." Arthur retracted his hand to rub at his chin with feigned rumination, "...the bit about bein' 'sex-positive' and the joys thereof?"

The dark-haired man laughed, the words sounded delightfully anachronistic on Arthur's lips, a bit like the first time his grandma held an iPhone.

Speaking of which.

"Oh, I've been meaning to show you this," Aiden said as he reached for his jeans, still lying in a sad heap on the ground. "John sure found it amusing." The young man turned around and presented the device.

"What do we have here?" Arthur asked, taking the black glass slab and turning it around, intentionally avoiding his own reflection.

"Here," Aiden tugged the phone back with a grin, "You ready?"

Arthur leaned back, not knowing what to expect. Aiden clicked the power button.

"What the hell," Arthur frowned.

With a few swipes, Aiden turned the screen around once more and pressed the triangle in the center. Three furballs came to life, pouncing and tripping over each other over a roll of toilet paper– Another modern comfort that Aiden missed sorely; corn cobs and buffalo hide just won't do.

"Sweet mother of Christ," Arthur whispered unconsciously, blinking away the possibility of a hallucination. 

"What. The. Hell." He gritted, taking the phone and turning it on its back just like John did. Nothing.

"Wha–" The outlaw gesture wildly at the glowing object his hand in a silent _Are you seeing this shit?_

* * *

Arthur tapped his fingers on Aiden's back to one of the _Scorpions_ softer hits, accompanied by the rain's gentle tapping against an empty barrel somewhere out in the inky night.

The programmer sat in his usual spot with his head resting against a warm, sturdy shoulder, watching as Arthur gingerly navigated the phone's interface with his free hand. The thought of the outlaw stumbling upon his little porn-stash tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Who's this? She sounds...real heartbroken." Arthur broke the silence as a ballad came on, the faint crackling in the track told of its old age.

Funny, for a song whose singer hasn't even been born yet.

"That's Edith Piaf," Aiden replied, peeking over Arthur's shoulders to see the screen. "She's French."

"You know what she's singing?"

"No, I never looked it up, but it isn't hard to guess."

_But I miss you, most of all. My darling, when autumn leaves start to fall..._

"Hm. I like her." Arthur said absentmindedly. "Much better than the highborn nonsense Dutch likes to play."

"Totally, I've seriously considered smashing that piece of shit." Aiden smiled.

A small lump furled the tent's fabric, then Jack poked his head through, "Good evening, Uncle Arthur." The boy said timidly and looked toward the other man. "And Uncle Aiden." He added with less certainty.

"What're you doin' here, kid?" Arthur asked, his failed attempt at gruffness only made him more endearing.

"'M hungry," Jack said, his eyes sparkling with hope.

"Shoulda listened to your Ma when she told you to mind your meals," Arthur said, already rummaging through his satchel hanging from the wagon. "Here," He tossed to jack half a chocolate bar, a piece of silver foil detached and lingered in the air for a moment.

The boy caught the treat with both hands and nodded his thanks enthusiastically. Then he boosted himself on to the cot with his back against Arthur and Aiden, the sound of chocolate breaking and a satisfied 'yum' brought smiles on the couple's faces.

"So," Arthur said, taking Aiden's hand and planting on it a chaste kiss. "Mr. Bennett, would you care to join me for a robbery tomorrow?"

Aiden gasped into his hand, "How romantic! I'd love to shoot up a doctor's office with you." 

Arthur scoffed, "Now, a real successful robbery is one where no one gets shot, and we're in and out before anyone knows it."

Jack turned around, his face smeared with chocolate, "Can I come too?" He asked as he shoved another piece into his mouth.

Aiden said, "You can come when yo–" 

"None of that talk, now why don't you head back to your mama, 'fore she shoots us both," Arthur said with a shooing motion. The child put on an exaggerated frown and squirreled out the tent.

"He ain't gonna rob no one, Aiden." Arthur said. Aiden thought for a moment and nodded. "Ever."

"You want him out of this life," Aiden said. The blonde man nodded with a rueful glance.

"This thing we got here, this family, this way, is all I got," Arthur said. The young man behind him perked up, sensing the change in the air. "It all I'll ever know. But it ain't gotta be this way for Jack. He can. He can be different, go to school, grow up to be a... a damn doctor or somethin'."

"But what about Dutch's plan?" Aiden asked softly. Arthur blinked as if he suddenly sobered up, then he sagged again.

_Dutch has no plan._

"I'm just bein' paranoid is all, you know? I wanna be prepared for anything, In case..."

"I know." The programmer nodded firmly.

"This all goes to shit, you're sure?" Arthur suddenly asked, his eyes more intense than Aiden's ever seen.

"Well– as I said, things can change," Aiden explained, more to himself than Arthur. "What I saw in the game is different than real life, a lot of things can–" 

"What do you think is gonna happen?" Arthur asked.

"I'm trying to tell you; I can't know what's gonna happen anymore," Aiden replied.

"That ain't what I asked. I asked what do you _think_ will become of us?" 

Aiden fidgeted with a flaking piece of wood on the bedside crate. His instincts told him to lie, and only when he realized that instinct was merely the reflection of _habit_ could he finally begin to really think about the question. It was a strange sensation, liberating even, to think something through using only facts, and not _hopes_.

_What do **I** think will happen?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> must say these shorter chapters have really helped me post more regularly. I was struggling really hard over lack of motivation trying to squeeze out 3000+ words for every chapter a while back (chapter 7-12 ish). 
> 
> Now ideas come more easily and my compulsion to update feels satiating again instead of overbearing.
> 
> I know the fandom is dying at an abnormal speed for such a groundbreaking release, which breaks my heart a little whenever I think about it. Lots of my favorite bloggers on Tumblr have moved on to other fandoms. 
> 
>  
> 
> I just wanna thank all of you who keep coming back chapter after chapter to offer your encouragement. 
> 
>  
> 
> In truth, I haven't played RDR2 in months. And now I am drawing purely on my memories of the game, the big events, how I felt etc. I only occasionally open my early save to take in the world a little bit. 
> 
> I don't know why, there's so much of this game that I haven't seen yet, but somehow I just don't have the motivation to sit here and go through it again. 
> 
> Though, I suppose that is how our protagonist Aiden is dealing with his life in the story. He's been in their worlds for months now, and he must be feeling the same kind of distance to the game itself. 
> 
> The characters feel more and more like my own, even though they're not– further and further detached from the static points in the story that won't change no matter how many times I play it, is what I'm trying to say, I guess.
> 
>  
> 
> Idk why I just typed all that. But anyway, I still fully plan on finishing this story, which isn't even at the halfway point yet.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	18. Princess Grey Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Aiden robs the doctor's office to help out Mary.

The early morning sun felt just right on Arthur's back as he and his guide rode along the railway in a leisurely pace. The earth was still wet from last night's storm; the fresh grassy smell of renewal made his breaths deeper than usual.

"So," Arthur said, staring intently at the object he held with both hands. "You press this button here to turn the camera around?"

Aiden looked up from his contraption, a little checkered roll of fabric stuck to the muzzle of his varmint rifle and leaned over to see the screen. "Yep," He said.

Arthur gingerly touched the icon in the lower right corner, and the viewfinder flipped to reflect his face, looking right up his nostrils and slight double-chin. "How's it do that?" Arthur winced.

"It's got two cameras; one is in the front," Aiden said.

"Huh," Arthur said, not wanting to risk sounding stupid by asking _where_ the camera was. It had to be the impossibly tiny, barely visible dot in the middle.

_Right?_

After a few minutes of aimlessly fiddling with the device, he slipped it back in his left pocket. "Anyhow, tell me somethin' about where you came from, seein' that we've got nothin' but time," Arthur said.

"What do you want to know?" Aiden asked.

"Well, what did you do?" Arthur said.

"I am– was, a programmer." Aiden frowned at Arthur's blank expression; he hadn't really thought about how to explain the concept of 'software.' "So, I tell the... the phone what to do," Aiden gestured at Arthur's pocket.

Arthur nodded sagely, knowing a lost cause when he saw one.

"I use computers– basically bigger phones, to write down code- instructions, the phone then follows–" Aiden realized he was typing on an invisible keyboard and felt stupid.

"Never-mind," They both said in unison.

"You uh, live in a big fancy house?" Arthur asked with his eyes on the horizon, a bird caught his attention and he traced its path for a moment.

Aiden rolled his eyes, "No one in San Francisco can afford to live in a big house. My place was barely bigger than my tent now and I pay three K in rent." He wondered if time stopped for him in the future. Or more likely, the world carried on spinning without him.

" _Three K?_ " Arthur asked with a thick drawl, an air of disbelief lifted from his words. It surely couldn't mean what he thought it did. Aiden nodded with an exaggerated pout.

"Tell me something about your time," Aiden said.

"Well, you're in it right now," Arthur said, the discomfort in his voice subtle enough to be glossed over had Aiden not been actively looking for it. "What'd you wanna know that you don't already?"

"Something about your childhood, something fun. I don't know much about that part." Aiden said carefully.

Arthur shifted in his saddle, Aiden's knowledge intimidated him sometimes; it simultaneously made it both harder and easier to talk to the young man about matters he'd never broach with another.

"Didn't have much of neither. We're here." Arthur gestured at the hitching post and trough in front of the salon; his hat tipped just so that Aiden's couldn't read into his eyes.

The outlaw strolled into the mostly empty saloon, habitually scanning over the few raggedy men passed out on their tables. He approached the bar and tossed a nickel on the counter while rubbing two more against each other.

"Whiskey," Arthur said as he nodded toward the bottle on the rough wood shelf. He scratched his beard as he tried to calculate how many bottles he could buy with _three thousand dollars_.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Aiden staring at him, "What?" He asked, gruffly.

The younger raised an eyebrow and grinned, sending a flush of heat on Arthur's cheeks as he poured them both a glass, nearly fumbling it. 

_This kid._

"The answer is sixty thousand bottles," Aiden said as he swirled his shot glass.

"How the hell you know what I's thinkin'? Arthur asked, trying not to sound flustered. "You a psychic too is it?"

Aiden grinned, "You like to rub your beard when you think, I can practically hear you counting your fingers."

Arthur's blush deepened, "I don't count my goddamn fingers," He muttered as he downed another drink, using the motion to disguise his glance downward. Just to be sure.

Aiden caught that too, and the saloon rang with his laughter.

* * *

"So there's an armored door in the back of the shop," Aiden said as he drew the room with his fingers on the bar table. "You'll need to make the doctor open the door."

Arthur rubbed his beard and half-nodded, "Who's inside?"

"Bunch of O'Driscolls and uh, a couple of ladies," Aiden said, the word 'whore' didn't feel politically correct to use.

"I ain't got a problem shootin' O'Driscolls, but Dutch– I got a code for women."

"They'll try to kill you too." Aiden pointed out.

"Well, in that case..." Arthur said.

"I'm glad we're having this talk, it's good knowing you can't kill women," Aiden said, still tracing the rim of his first drink.

Arthur frowned, "Now, I ain't say that," he began to raise a finger.

"I'm a hardcore feminist, so I have no problem shooting women," Aiden said, downing his drink for effect and prayed that he didn't grimace too hard. An immense pride bloomed in his chest when he realized how long he had waited to deliver this line.

Arthur nodded with a scoff. "Alright, let's get this done."

Looking as casual as two masked men can be, Arthur and Aiden strolled up to the doctor's office. Arthur strummed his fingers along his side holster restlessly as Aiden peeked through the door window. It was starting to feel like a bad idea.

"Shop's clear," Aiden turned back and said.

Arthur reached over and stopped Aiden from drawing his revolver and said, "Now you let me do all the work, you hear? Don't go in there until it's safe. After I take care o' things you just tell me where the money's at, we clear?"

Aiden rolled his eyes in typical fashion and nodded. Arthur walked past and twisted the copper doorknob, the doorbell gave off a merry jingle, and the man behind the counter perked up.

The doctor straightened his shirt and said, "Hello, sir! You must be new. Well, I've got an assortment of- woah, hey!"

"Let me into that back room of your's _right now._ " Arthur growled, carefully watching the doctor's hands as he waved his gun to the ceiling.

Raising his hands in front of his chest, the doctor bargained, "Sir, please, you don't want to get involved with them, I promise you."

"You make them open up, or you're a dead man!" Arthur bellowed quietly, the rumble in his tone sent shivers even down Aiden's spine as the young man waited for permission to enter.

"Alright, alright," the doctor said as he began walking toward the back of the shop with his hands still raised appeasingly.

Arthur looked to Aiden and waved his gun toward himself, _come on_.

The programmer walked in with a skip in his step, his face behind his jolly red bandana. Arthur pressed his hand against Aiden's chest and pushed him back when he tried to follow them through the little stockroom between the front and the secret whorehouse.

 _Stay,_ Arthur pushed Aiden to the side of the door frame and jabbed his finger toward the ground as if commanding an untrained puppy.

In front of the metal door, the doctor began calling for the occupants within, "Uh, hey, open up..." The doctor flinched at the silent warning of Arthur's barrel poking against his ribs. "...I brought some whiskey and food for you fellers."

There was no answer. The doctor glanced at Arthur, his forehead already beading with sweat. Arthur nodded toward the metal door. _Try again._

The doctor gave a jittery nod and started talking again.

"You fellers in there?"

"Psst," Aiden whispered, drawing Arthur's attention. The outlaw looked toward the sound with an annoyed gesture.

The programmer held out three fingers and then a makeshift gun. Arthur nodded dismissively as he tried to focus on the breach once the door opens, but Aiden wasn't finished. He then held out two fingers and then cupped his chest.

Confused, Arthur adjusted his stifling bandana and turned up his palms, _what?_

Aiden repeated the motions, and when the answer did not become more apparent, he hissed loudly, "Tits– two girls inside," he cupped his chest again and pretended to bounce his imaginary breasts up and down.

Arthur rolled his eyes so hard he thought he saw his brain, even the doctor was momentarily distracted by the not-so-covert chatter.

Finally, the rectangular peephole slid open with an irritated _clack_ , lewd moaning sounds wafted through the opening before a man inside spoke with an Irish accent.

"Yeah, it's only the doc," He said, his voice directed at someone else inside.

Then the heavy metal door creaked open.

Aiden observed the opening door Arthur couldn't see from his angle, a bucktoothed man wearing mostly black held the door, a dirty green cloth around his neck to parade his affiliation.

 _The Mighty O'Driscoll Gang._ Aiden said internally with a goofy voice, pretending he was the bucktoothed man.

The O'Driscoll spoke impatiently, "Just put it on the table. You can see we're in the middle of some important–"

The doctor slumped over before he could step into the room, revealing the wide-shouldered man behind him, his pistol where the doctor's head was a second ago. Two muted screams replaced the exaggerated moaning, and Aiden imagined the girls' horror as they tried to cover themselves.

"Shite," Bucktooth scrambled for the revolver lying on the table but froze when Arthur's hammer clicked.

"Hands where I can see 'em." Arthur gritted as he tossed a few lengths of rope onto the table. Bucktooth begrudgingly withdrew his hand from the table, sensing the intruder wasn't playing games.

The outlaw waved in his partner as he spoke, "Now do me a favor, go tie up your buddies over there." He gestured toward the copulating pair on the stained couch.

Aiden walked in with his pistol held in front of his hips like a proper gunfighter. The tough-guy display didn't last long as the young man squealed in delight when he saw the second O'Driscoll standing with his hands in the air, his now-limp member hanging out his breeches.

"Oh my god," Aiden said as he burst into laughter, pushing his gun toward the exposed O'Driscoll like a finger. The man blushed red like a tomato on the verge of bursting.

"T- turn around Pat," Bucktooth picked up a length of rope and walked slowly toward his friend, second-hand embarrassment dying his cheeks red as well.

'Can- can I at least pull up me trousers, mister?" Pat stuttered.

Arthur pretended to think for a moment with his telltale rub, "No, I think I like you just the way you is."

"Matter o' fact, I'm gonna need you to do the same." He said to Bucktooth.

"Wha–"

"I ain't askin' again, you little shit. Take it off, or I'll shoot it off." Arthur narrowed his eyes as he dropped his voice low as well as his aim.

Bucktooth bargained unintelligibly as he complied, pulling his trousers down to his knees and exposing his shriveled organ. Aiden was practically rolling on the floor.

" _All_ the way off," Arthur said menacingly. With a gulp, Bucktooth complied again. 

"Nice pair, think I'll keep it." The outlaw extended his hand, ignoring Bucktooth's incredulous expression.

Reluctantly, the O'Driscoll tossed over his pants.

"Ai- Princess, get the money." Arthur motioned toward his partner, whose face was still red from the lack of oxygen.

Aiden straightened up, "Princess? I told you my code name is Grey Wolf!" He exclaimed as he swiped the loose bills scattered across the table into his sack. _All we need now is a big dollar sign on the bag_ Aiden thought.

Arthur shook his head in either amusement or annoyance, "Whatever, Princess Grey Wolf."

The outlaw turned his attention back to the hostages as Aiden worked. "What's his deal?" He pointed his gun toward the last man sleeping soundly on his cot.

"That's Levi, idiot’ll sleep through a cannon shot, he will," Pat said through his teeth as he glared at his sleeping comrade.

Arthur chuffed, "Well, just to be sure, I'll need you to tie him up too. Go on." He said as he tossed the last length of rope toward Bucktooth, who almost missed it due to his efforts to protect his dignity.

Behind them, Aiden strolled to the wall-mounted safe and turned in the passcode like he owned it.

"How, how'd you know the code, lass?" Pat said with his jaw dropped.

"I'm a dude you dickhead." Aiden blurted back with his voice half an octave lower than usual, regretting not tying up his long hair beforehand. "And I'm also a wizard." He added with a wink.

The gold-emblazoned green safe clicked open, and Arthur caught a familiar glint.

"Shit," Arthur and Aiden both said.

Two short gold bullions sat in the safe.

"How much you make in this place, huh? Your pussy can cure cancer or something?" Aiden asked as he swept the contents into the loot bag, holding onto a chunk of gold for a moment. He turned to look at Arthur, whose smile could be seen even from behind his mask.

"All done?" Arthur asked.

Aiden nodded excitedly.

"Well then, it's been a pleasure, gentlemen," Arthur said as he tipped his hat, then picked up the gun on the table and handed it to Aiden, who dumped it in the bag along the rest of the loot.

The outlaw waved Bucktooth's pants, "Now you might wanna find something to cover up, or you can try to run after us with your cock hanging out."

* * *

Arthur and Aiden joked and laughed all the way home. Arthur counted the bills as his stallion trotted along; Aiden fiddled with the blocks of solid gold, bursting with pride.

"How much you think these are worth?" Aiden asked.

Arthur looked up from his bills after a moment, "Couple hundred bucks at least," He said. "Couple hundred more right here." He said toward the thick ream of bank notes.

 _This life ain't so bad_ He thought.

The pair trotted back into camp like returning heroes, despite no one paying them any mind. The buzzing of excitement was all they needed.

"Well, I'll find a place to put them gold away, you go give the camp it's share."

"Do I have to?" Aiden frowned, giving up half their take seemed unreasonable.

"It's the rules, sweetheart. Camp saved you just as much as I did." Arthur said as he gently tousled Aiden's hair and handed him a measured stack.

Aiden extended his hand to take it, but Arthur pulled back, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Don't play any tricks now, you hear me, boy?"

"Whatever," Aiden said with a devious grin, he lifted Arthur's hand from his head and kissed over each knuckle tenderly.

Slapping the tin box shut, Aiden began to record his deposit in the camp ledger. A familiar voice caught his attention and he peeked through the crack behind Dutch's tent to see that the man was talking to someone. He leaned closer and just then, Dutch shifted slightly, and the stranger met his eyes with a grin.

 _Oh shit oh fuck,_ He screamed internally as he backed away, running to find Arthur.

It's fucking Micah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	19. Show Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur discovers Aiden had been hiding something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A semi warning for sensitive content is in the end notes since I don't want to spoil anything, if you think you might be triggered by some things then probably take a look at it first and see if you wanna read it still.

It had been two weeks since Micah's unexpected return, and somehow Arthur had been sent out nearly every day for this task or another. Aiden gritted his teeth whenever he thought of Arthur slaving away while Micah lounged about, seemingly invisible to the camp leader and everyone else.

 _Micah._ His eyes were always following him, always smiling at him. Everything about that man made Aiden sick. His face, his voice. His touch.

Aiden tried not to think about it.

In a rare moment of idleness, Arthur rode home before dark, having finished beating the shit out of some poor farmer or young shopkeep for owed money earlier than expected.

Aiden was less bothered by it than his education said he should be. He had room for only he and his, as should everyone. After all, how much would mercy be worth if everyone had it?

"How was Mary?" Aiden asked as he slowly lowered himself onto one of Javier's blanket draped across the big log by the central fire with a bowl of pork and beans in hand. He winced as his weight settled, his body was sore and tired.

Ransacking the nearest general store's food section was priority number one when Aiden was finally allowed to leave camp by himself. Because by then, the mere sight of Pearson's thick, bubbling stew was enough to send him into a fit of projectile vomit.

Arthur sat on the ground with his back against the log. An empty tin bowl was upturned by his side, the spoon a foot away. Aiden rolled his eyes, no matter how many times he scolded Arthur, the man would still casually abandon his bowl wherever he finished his meal.

"Hm?" Arthur grunted absentmindedly as he finished the last few strokes of what was on his mind and snapped his notebook closed. He reached for Aiden's ankle. "She's doin' alright." He said, his face still fixed in thought.

"Gave her my share and told her to get on out of here." He added. His hand slid up beneath Aiden's untucked leg opening and squeezed his calf, hoping it was enough to substitute the eye contact he was too ashamed to make. Instead, Aiden hissed and jerked away.

"Sorry, I'm really sore there." He explained.

Arthur frowned as he reached out to rub at the sore muscle, but the younger moved again.

"You looked tired," Aiden said. "And you smell like shit."

Arthur scoffed, more than happy to take the out. "Well, princess, we didn't all grow up in a palace."

"Why do you keep saying that? I was born solid working class." Aiden said as he shoveled another spoonful of food into his mouth.

"I remember you told me you got hot water, just comin' out the walls whenever you like? Food in the... the rufergaretor whenever you're hungry? I'd call that a palace." Arthur replied.

"It's called a refrigerator." Aiden snorted and took another bite. Arthur threw up a dismissive hand.

When he thought about it, he realized Arthur was right. If he saw a house with running hot water and fresh food kept cold in a big box now, he'd probably think it's a palace too. Aiden groaned at the thought as it led him to the realization that he probably didn't smell much better at all, his last bath being nine days ago– and only because Arthur threatened to drown him in the creek if he refused to wade into the bone-chilling current and scrub until there was at least no visible grime on his skin.

"Hey, Artie, you wanna go down to the creek? We can get you cleaned up; I'll wash your hair. It's a fucking mess." Aiden suggested as he reached for a long strand resting on Arthur's cheekbone. As expected, it was greasy as all hell.

 _How the hell am I sleeping with this guy?_ He thought with disgust.

 _How the hell am I sleeping with myself?_ Another version of himself said, as he subtly sniffed his shoulder.

Arthur batted his hand away and palmed his hair back, "An' who's fault is that?" He said as he got up and pulled Aiden to his feet.

Aiden hissed, "Ow, be gentle." He complained as he supported his back.

"I was. Let's go."

With the cicadas of summer all dead, the frogs' song flourished once more, mixing pleasantly with the faint sounds of the water and velvet blue sky. Aiden used the side of his boot to clear away the littered pebbles and grit for a spot to sit down. In front of him, Arthur shrugged of his suspenders and rolled his shoulders in relief.

In one fluid motion, Arthur untucked and peeled off his merlot red undershirt, discarding it on the gravel. Aiden tilted his head as he watched, it was a beautiful thing, Arthur arms and shoulders flexing as he lifted the shirt over his head. The brief hunch of his back as he ducked out of the fabric, the smooth swells and grooves shifting effortlessly beneath broad planes of freckled, sun-tanned skin. Sometimes Aiden wished he could draw too.

The younger lifted his greasy hair and brought it over his face in a subliminal effort to hide his blush when Arthur slowly unbuttoned his jeans, bending down deliberately, revealing his thick thighs, the bulging muscles shifting as he did, his sculpted behind jutted out at him.

It was at that moment that Aiden realized Arthur was putting on a show. That, and the cocky smirk on the outlaw's handsome half-turned face.

Aiden's heart quickened, his hand dropped to his groin instinctively before he made another realization– he was swelling with pride, not lust. It amused and saddened him all at once. Amused– and proud that perhaps because of his efforts, Arthur was now more comfortable with his body. Sad, because he could no longer say the same for himself.

To punctuate the thought, his hip sent another wave of discomfort along his spine.

"You comin'?" Arthur asked. Aiden looked up to see that the man was fully undressed and knee-deep in the stream; the mischievous smile still lingering on his features.

"Of course," Aiden replied as he got up, barely remembering to remove his boots before he followed Arthur into the stream. He gritted his teeth as the water rose above his calves the stinging cold burned the inside of his knees. Preferring freezing to death to being called princess again. "I'm a big man, a bad man. I can handle a kids pool, so why not this?"

The younger followed suit when Arthur sat down, letting the water rise up to his belly with a suppressed hiss. The outlaw hummed in appreciation when he felt fingers combing through his dirty blonde hair, wiggling to detangle the mess beneath the surface layer.

"Get your hair wet, please," Aiden said. Arthur complied by quickly dipping his head forward into the water before swinging his neck-length hair back forcefully, intentionally spraying his lover, earning him a gasp and a cold splash in the back. Arthur's chuckles turned into a purring when those familiar fingers touched him again, gently massaging his scalp for a few moments before a hard object was pressed against his hairline and smoothed all the way back to the ends on his neck. Aiden's fingertips send waves of shivers down Arthur's spine.

Aiden repeated the process a couple of times before tousling the outlaw's hair once more, rubbing until suds permeated every greasy strand. He moved his fingers in a circular motion and applied more force. Arthur moaned, and his shoulders drooped. He felt Arthur's back touching his folded legs as the man gradually leaned back into his touch.

"I'll fall asleep if you keep this up," Arthur said with genuine sleepiness in his voice as he leaned further back and finally rested his head against Aiden's shoulder, soap suds dripping down onto him.

Aiden's eyes widened when Arthur's half-closed ones met his own; he could barely make out the flush on Arthur's cheekbones under the moonlight. Their lone lantern sat on the shore gave the water a faint orange shimmer through the night fog.

Arthur parted his lips slightly, the tip of his tongue sweeping over his chapped lips.

"Let me guess– you have a hard-on?" Aiden tried to keep his voice light and unconcerned.

Arthur made a little noise deep in his throat as he nodded slowly, his eyes still lazily fixed on Aiden's.

"Been feelin' kinda..." Arthur murmured, his pride stopped him from saying 'horny.' So instead, he reached up and took Aiden's left hand and guided it into the water.

Even though he knew what was coming, the younger still tensed when Arthur's large calloused hand wrapped his slender fingers around his already throbbing erection.

"God, you're so horny," Aiden teased with a breathiness he didn't intend to have. "How the fuck did you go all those years without having sex?"

"Didn't have anyone to touch me like this." Arthur shrugged, barely managing to finish his words before he was cut off by a moan when Aiden's grip on his shaft tightened and gave an experimental pump.

"I was literally just washing your hair," Aiden said with amusement.

"It ain't my fault it feels really good."

"Exactly. You're a horn dog."

Aiden felt Arthur's body relax further as his every muscle went limp one after the other. Aiden continued to slowly stroke him while his other hand naturally found its way around an already erect nipple. Arthur brows scrunched together as they advanced. In just a minute or two, Aiden could already feel Arthur's stiff hips thrusting up in the water for more stimulation.

"Hm," Arthur breathed as he caught Aiden's hand, a sudden look of realization flashed in his eyes.

"What?" Aiden asked.

Instead of replying, Arthur got up and turned to face him.

"What?" Aiden repeated with more confusion.

"Why are you wearing clothes?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know," Aiden mumbled and shrugged as he subtly lowered more of his body into the stream, but it was too late.

Arthur's eyes fixed on Aiden's right shoulder before they could sink in. Beneath the white, soaked fabric clinging to his skin, Arthur saw a large patch of discoloration. Aiden saw that he saw. He swallowed as the older's face grew stern, making him want to tug at his soaked collar.

Arthur quickly and aggressively washed off his hair before taking Aiden's wrist in his hand and tugged him along; strong enough to communicate a command but gentle enough to avoid bruising.

Though he went along with his head dipped low, it didn't stop him from unconsciously dragging his feet in the wet mud beneath the surface. His cheeks burned and his back prickled as he tried to spin up a plausible explanation to no avail.

Upon reaching the shore, Arthur sat Aiden down on a log firmly with a hand on his shoulder before doing the same. The younger did his best to avert his gaze.

For a long moment. No one spoke.

"Show me," Arthur said, quiet but stern.

Aiden let his eyes fall shut, the sudden urge to cry hitched his shoulders as he rotated further away from Arthur.

"Kid," Arthur said as he slowly turned the younger around as if he were a statue of snow, the sternness dissolved into a sad tenderness.

"Show me, come on," He repeated. Arthur's heart sank further when his lover's eyes finally opened, watery and red. Aiden shook his head.

In response, Arthur cupped his face with his right hand and wiped away the first stray tear with his thumb.

"Show me," He asked again, never before so soft. His thumb traced ever so lightly over Aiden's upper lip. "It's okay."

After another two minutes of silence and straining to hold back, Aiden reached toward the topmost button on his shirt with invisible boulders attached to his wrists. Welling tears rushed down the path drawn out by the others.

Arthur's eyes widened more and more with each undone button before he caught himself with an expression of utter horror.

Aiden flinched away when Arthur suddenly scooted forward to look more closely. The older man caught his wrist without looking away and held it in position as he tried to understand what he was seeing.

On the planes of Aiden's newly tanned torso were countless patches of blue and purple and streaks of red in various shades. Some were already scarring; some no more than a few hours old.

Aiden wept silently, no longer straining to picture something happier. Pain was surprisingly easy to get used to; Shame was not.

"Sweetheart..." Arthur swallowed thickly as he ran his middle finger down Aiden's chest, avoiding the various cuts and bruises. He could clearly feel the muscles beneath tensing at his touch, so he stopped.

"Who...who did this?" He asked quietly.

Aiden gave no reply, though Arthur was too preoccupied to notice anyway as he slowly leaned over to confirm the damage was similar on the young man's back as well. A sharp hiss made them both jump when Arthur's knees bumped into Aiden's, and Aiden moved them away. That was when Arthur noticed the claw marked on Aiden's waist, curving and disappearing into his waistband.

There was no more doubt as to what happened.

Arthur closed his eyes. "Show me," he said, something between a whisper and a gasp. He had allowed this to happen, right under his nose.

"No," Aiden replied, his weeping devolved into quiet heaves.

"Please, let me see it," Arthur begged. "Please, sweetheart."

Heaves turning into sobs, Aiden sat there as he disintegrated, unable to be held without being injured further. Through the blur, he felt a warm hand hovering over his thigh, barely touching the wet fabric. When he didn't move away, the big hand slowly reached toward his waistband. Aiden continued to cry.

"Please,"

Aiden nodded slightly and stood up with Arthur's help. He looked away as the outlaw unbuttoned his jeans.

Gingerly, Arthur tugged at the waistband and was met with more of the same. Leaning over to look behind, he saw that the injuries were more concentrated, most prominent of which were four long scratch marks parallel to each other, fresh and angry as it stretched against the pale skin there, from Aiden's waist all the way back to the cleft between his legs.

Seen enough, he quickly buttoned up the wet trousers and retrieved his own shirt, still laying in a pile by the water and draped it over the shivering body next to him.

Aiden sobbed and sobbed while Arthur held him, tender as he can, for there was nothing to say.

Arthur made a vicious vow right then and there.

* * *

Aiden groaned as he awoke, the drooping tilt of the moon told him the night was growing wary. He nuzzled against Arthur’s warm, bare chest as he treaded steadily up the dirt path, carrying him in his arms. Though he no longer remembered most of what Arthur had said, he knew he had fallen asleep to Arthur's voice. The man must have spoken to him for hours after his tears ran dry, just reading from his journal, quietly explaining the wonders of the world, and how they made him feel. He couldn't remember what Arthur said, but he remembers the vulnerability in his deep rumbling voice as he was cradled and rocked.

Arthur had talked about how the world made him feel. That it wasn't all ugly. He paused often between gentle murmurs to piece together the scraps of him that weren't tainted with murder; he loved flowers, he wanted to go to college, he wished he knew how to play the piano. He talked about not wanting to see more of the world, no matter how much beauty still lies undiscovered; he only wanted to wake up to the same tree line by the same rippling lake for the rest of his life. He talked about how he never really wanted to go to Tahiti; the obvious truth that he didn't enjoy killing, and the less obvious– every time he executed a man, he'd deliberately pause for a moment so the condemned would have a chance to kill him instead.

He went on and on and on, filling the inch of space between his lips and Aiden's ear with the faint glow of memories of the ones he had lost and the ones that loved him the most.

When Aiden's head finally drooped against his broad shoulders, he said that sometimes he wished he was born a woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Y'all sorry for the super long delay. I haven't had the motivation to write for almost a month. I think it has been good for me to take a break though, I was caring more and more about the views and kudos and comments that it became an integral part of my process and that was probably not a good thing. Not that I don't appreciate and yearn for it anymore, just that I kinda give slightly less of a fuck, which really helped lubricate the production of this chapter.
> 
> So in this chapter Arthur makes a pretty sinister discovery on Aiden's body, it's still up for your interpretation as to what is going on and why, but I think I've made what was happening to Aiden pretty overt.
> 
> Anyway, if you like it, comment on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it! It helps me keep writing :)


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